


The Secrets We All Keep

by jiemae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, Psychological Drama, Ravenclaw x Slytherin, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, ok but its actually a medium burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-03-30 18:01:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 69,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiemae/pseuds/jiemae
Summary: Rumors and mysteries surround him and she wants to know: what is Tom Riddle doing inside the girl's bathroom on the second floor?(The AO3 mirror to the same story on fanfiction.net//Faster updates there!)





	1. Act One: That Riddle Boy

_**Act One** _

**That Riddle Boy**

_17th August, 1942_

Everly should have known the year was to be an odd one by the way it started—not everyone could say that they had their life saved by a cat. Some, undoubtedly could, but it's not everyday a stray cat pulls heroics out of thin air.

She should be thankful that strange, out of the normal, things happened around her on a near daily occurrence. After all, she was a witch; her life had always been touched by the mystical and not always easily understood nature of magic and oddities. But then, she certainly wasn't very grateful when the unnatural took a turn for a worse and tried to ruin her life—but more on that  _much_  later.

It had been her fault actually; she'd been far too busy reading as she walked home from the library late at night. Distracted, of course, with refreshing her memory in preparation for the new school year. It would be her fifth and, well, she wanted to be prepared to the utmost degree. After all, she would have to prepare for the Ordinary Wizarding Levels, the exams that would affect the rest of her life, deciding on the classes she would be allowed to pursue N.E.W.T-level studies for. She didn't want to leave anything to chance. Everly had great plans for her life and career; she needed every O.W.L she could get.

Chance was the sort of thing that left her at the mercy of a cat to save her life, after all.

Which was the very reason why she loathed the idea of probability! As if she couldn't do her very best and it make it  _certain_  that the things she wanted to happen, happen. Everly liked a sense of order in her life, a comfort that she did her best to maintain in her day to day life, she liked absolutes. She liked making things  _happen_  and she had a distinct refusal to become too dependent on others on the path to her goals. Perhaps it was caused by being raised a Greengrass.

Regardless, she liked to be on her own exploring the world, not with her hand being held.

Though... it  _was_  a lucky thing, that cat being there.

Out in the muggle world, things were a bit more dangerous. She wasn't allowed to use magic until she reached Hogwarts, and that wouldn't be for a few more weeks. Instead, Everly had to rely on more human methods to keep safe; like watching where she was going.

Which she failed to do.

Her first indication that something was wrong, was the ragged breathing that drew up behind her. A bit of an obvious thing, but in her interest towards the book, she disregarded it as a bug to be ignored. It was her first mistake.

A hand went up to wrap around the back of her neck, and as she stilled by the force placed there, she felt something cold slide up to brush the skin of her cheek. She glanced down, finding her book clattering to the sidewalk, striking against it with a harsh scraping sound that set her nerves alight and her teeth gritting in annoyance. She saw a knife, real sharp one at that.

"You're a hostage now, love. Don' try anythin', or ye will be killed."

Everly should have taken the situation a lot more seriously than she had. She laughed.

"My, my, how original! You know, you might want to pick up some better lines, else you'll be mocked in prison till the day you die."

"Not a line," he said, letting the knife slice the skin of her cheek. The scent of her blood touched her nose. "It's the truth."

It was then that the shock began to wear off, and though she still wasn't awashed in fear like others might've been, Everly was starting to get weary. If push came to shove, she'd use magic and she'd take the punishment if necessary. Wasn't there a clause in the Decree of the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery that overlooked magic in the case of life-threatening circumstances?

No way was she going to die at the hands of a criminal  _muggle_. That much, she was certain of.

"Get walkin'," he barked and she stalled.

"My book," she said, using her foot to kick it up into the air. In the same moment, she twisted, risking a slice that went to her throat, catching her book just in time to deflect the cheap shot. She went for one of her own as she jabbed a nail into one of his eyes.

The man stumbled back, groaning. Scoffing, and using her heavy book to clock him upside the head with all the force she could muster, Everly watched the large criminal stumble back and fall against a light post. He slid down the side of it and she growled, discovering the state of her book.

It split down the middle and cracked, papers spilling out onto the street.

" _Unforgivable_ ," she snarled. "You ruined a perfectly good book!"

He seemed not to hear her, passed out from the strike she'd hit him with, the bag in his hands slipping from his fingers. She would have felt far more satisfied had it not come from the destruction to the book's casings. Everly kicked him in the side for it, and wondered what she was supposed to do with a criminal when it was so late at night.

She'd have to find someone to contact the pole-lease, or whatever the muggle authorities were called. Hopefully she could do it without getting too involved in what looked like an obvious robbery suspect. It would just take up studying time if she got caught up in the drama it would entail. That, or perhaps she could just get her father to deal with it.

Everly decided to go with her father. As a Greengrass, he'd have the connections, even within the muggle world, to handle one lowly criminal that tried to pick on an underage girl. Irked the more she thought about it, she kicked him one more time in the side just for good measure.

It was after that, that she heard the sound of shifting papers sliding against the pavement of the road. Everly turned in time to see the loose papers begin to get carried up by the wind. She shrieked at the horrifying sight, diving in to catch as many as she could.

" _No_! I'm supposed to study them for the O.W.L exams!"

She very nearly gave up hope on the many pieces she was too slow to catch all at once, hating that she was beginning to scent rain in the air.

Then, the cat appeared, rescuing Everly with an agile grace that she was certain would remain in her daydreams for a long time. In many ways, the cat was just playing around, nicking and marking the papers it caught. But well, it wasn't anything she couldn't fix. What mattered was that she got the pages back.

When she did, pressing them to her chest so as not to let a single piece escape again, she stared at the cat that stared back. It's fur was completely black, save for a few spots of the color that might have been white but was so caked in mud it looked brown. The cat meowed inquiringly.

"He went this way!" a voice rang out and relief poured through her. Now she wouldn't have to try lugging a body the rest of the way home, and wouldn't need to bother her father from his important work.

Everly grinned at the cat. "Follow me, I suppose, if you want something to eat."

She made her way home quickly, spotting the tall, stately building in the heart of London, a place that the broader world, the Muggle word, had no idea existed. Opening the door wider for the cat that seemed eager to follow, it was perhaps sensing something in her that she sensed in it; a desire for greater companionship. She didn't feel keen on denying such a simple pleasure.

The cat tracked mud on the wooden floor of the entrance to her grand home, but Everly didn't care too much about that. The Greengrass manor housed a number of house-elves that were always eager to descend on mess and scrub it away.

And yes, there, with a sound like that of a whip striking air, Mobey appeared with a great big grin on his wizened face, somehow able to stretch the corners of his mouth quite high despite the heavy sag to the folds of his skin. He was getting on with age, having been in service to her family for far longer than she had been alive, his white hair tufted behind his ears like candy floss. For an elderly house-elf he looked rather handsome in the forest green robes Everly's mother had sewn together years ago, a little worn down due to the age, but holding together quite well.

She beamed at him.

"Mistress is home! Mobey has awaited most eagerly! Master has left a message for you, here," he said with a scratchy voice, lifting his spindly arms up to hand her the note, before he spied the cat stepping around them to explore further in. "Intruder!"

"Oh, yes," Everly said, a bit distracted as she unrolled the paper with her father's tidy scrawl. "Would you mind giving that cat a bath?"

"Mobey will, happily!" In an instant, he had scooped up the cat, who from the sounds of it was purring, and Disapparated from the foyer.

Everly clucked her tongue, her disappointment growing with each word she took in from the note in her hand.

_I'll be away for a few weeks, perhaps more. Heading to Bulgaria for work. Look after your brother, and make sure he gets to Hogwarts on time. Best wishes._

_\- J.N. Greengrass_

And Erebus had been so excited for their father to send him off to school.

She headed for the stairs, ascending with heels that were beginning to make her feel feel sore. The clack of them over the wood was all she heard breaking the silence of the building, but the quiet didn't bother her. Quite the opposite in fact.

Everly traveled the distance, down the hall of portraits with moving subjects, all framed pictures of her ancestors, laying out the history of her family with a mere glance. Her father, quite proud, had made certain any and all guests staying over could see for themselves the proof of their long line of pure Wizarding blood.

Knocking on the door, she didn't wait for an answer before peeking in to see Erebus, standing in full view with his hand hovering over a stagnant broom. He looked up, cheeks reddening at the sight of her and he hastily kicked the broom underneath his large canopy bed.

"You know that they don't let first years on the teams, don't you?"

"I was just practicing, is all," he mumbled, not meeting her gaze.

"Hoping to live up to the glory of our Beater father?" Everly asked with traces of amusement.

He shook his head, and with great effort, choked out, "S-Seeker."

"Well then," she said airly and with a bright smile, "carry on." She turned to duck out the door.

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"Where's that blood on your face from?" Erebus asked, peering at her closer. Concern lit his expression and swallowing, he took a step closer. "It's a cut..."

"Oh, a muggle tried attacking me," she said unthinkingly, her thoughts far away and on the exams she'd been preparing all summer for.

It was the wrong thing to say.

Alarm, followed quickly by anger, filled his features and his voice turned thinner, edging on a hiss. "Did you kill him?"

"No, I left him to muggle authorities." Or, at least she thought she did.

"How could you just let him get away with hurting you!?" Erebus cried. The lights in his room had begun to flicker.

To calm him, she tried for a smile. "I didn't just let him get away with it. I broke the spine of my book on his head, ended the scuffle in under a minute, I think, and managed to get in a few more swipes with these." She showed off the pointed toe of her heels.

"You didn't use magic?" He seemed to find this idea absurd, his brows raised high up, disappearing beneath the blond curls that swept his forehead.

"Of course not. It might have left him in the care of St. Mungo's and no witch or wizard should spend a moment of time on a man like that."

Erebus didn't seem too convinced of this. "You're too soft on muggles," he said with a shake of his head, turning back to pick up his broom. "Dad is always saying so, and I think he's right."

Everly stared at him for a moment, unable to think of what to say. "Father left me this," she said after the silence began to grow uncomfortable, handing the note over to change the subject.

His face fell upon reading it. " _Really_?"

"At least you'll have me," she said, trying to cheer him up from this disappointment. "I was on my own for my first time."

This did not seem to make much of a difference to him; he tossed his broom onto his bed and rushed through the doorway leading to his private bathroom, shutting door with a soft click that was masked only by the sound of her sigh.

_1st September, 1942_

It seemed an impossible task but she tried valiantly to inject some sense of excitement into the stiff-form of her brother, who pinched his fingers on the sleeve of her jacket and stared with a grimace at the mass of wizards and witches milling about.

"It's your first day, little brother," Everly said, half-distracted by the hustle and bustle of nine and three-quarters, eyeing the Hogwarts Express which sat stationed in its full-glory for students to board. She had to keep waving to the students that waved towards her. She could recognize only half of them, as a great deal of them appeared to be of younger years, all glancing at her with hopeful expressions.

They had to have heard of her exclusive tutoring club she'd formed four years ago during her first year at Hogwarts. Exclusive because Everly liked to take on only the most troubled students, those that were deemed hopeless by the staff or were tetchy about receiving help from those in their year. Everly loved a good challenge.

"It's not my first day. My first day was a long time ago, when I was born," Erebus corrected.

She rolled her eyes. "It's your first day at  _Hogwarts,_ only the greatest school in the Wizarding world! Aren't you excited? Oh, which house do you expect you'll end up in?" When he cast her an apprehensive glance, she babbled on, unperturbed, "You know, it was a surprise to  _everyone_  when I ended up in Ravenclaw, but I suppose you'll be in Slytherin, like our parents. You've always been a lot like Dad, haven't you?"

Erebus looked a tad ill at this, his bottle green eyes darkening. "But I don't want—" He cut himself off with a sigh, shaking his head as his cheeks turned a shade pinker.

"You don't want what?" Everly pressed.

His shoulders drew in and with an insecure tuck to his chin, he mumbled, "I want to be with you, in Ravenclaw."

Everly stared.

Erebus snuck a glance at her through his dark blond lashes and screwed up his face. "Forget—!"

She let out a squeal, pulling him to her and pressing her cheek to the top of his head. "Oh, come now,  _one_  of us has to be ambitious enough to enter the house of our family. You'll be the one carrying on the Greengrass name, after all. I'm certain you'll do incredible things as a Slytherin, I just know it."

"If you say so," he muttered, casting another forlorn sigh.

"I  _know_  so," Everly said with a grin. "Besides, you'll soon find plenty of friends who'll keep you too occupied to even think about me." She pulled away with a ruffle to the blond curls of his hair. " _And_  with all the learning you'll be doing, too tired to as well."

Erebus continued to look glum. "Boring," he said.

"What?" she scoffed. "Learning is the greatest joy!"

"It's just a means to an end."

Despite herself, she chuckled. " _Such_ a Slytherin thing to say."

"I guess so."

She giggled, leaning away to punch him in the shoulder. "Learning is the greatest reason our society has managed to progress so far. Without it, we'd be without all the wonderful gizmos you adore so much."

Erebus squinted at her. "It's not the greatest reason! Without ambition, we'd be, well, we'd be like the  _muggles_! Dad says so, you know."

"Oh?" Everly smiled. "Is that the worst thing you can think of? Well, you'll have to do better than that, little brother. The muggles themselves have their own set of ambition, so it's a useless comparison to make."

Erebus's jaw tightened and he glared at her, nostrils flaring. "I take it back! I hope I end up in Slytherin, far away from you and your useless lectures."

"Useless? No way! I'll have you know, I'm at the top of my year,  _and_  I've already received my prefect badge," Everly bragged, knowing it was because she was just enough like her parents to take pride in her accomplishments. Perhaps a bit too much, actually.

"Enough! I'm getting on the train by myself, and don't you dare act like we know each other at school."

Everly sighed. He'd been so cute earlier, now it was all replaced with fake bravado, the sort kids like him used as special shields. Perhaps he was the reason why tetchy students were her very favorite to teach.

"If that's how you want it," Everly said, waving a hand as she stepped towards the train with her trunk at her side, and cat's basket hanging off her arm.

"It is!"

She could only laugh at that.

**.**

**.**

"Alphard!" Everly called as she saw him further down, looking into compartments with a heavy trunk rolling on wheels behind him, a caged tawny owl hooting at the sight of her in his hand. He turned to face her, a sneer-like smile on his handsome face. His black hair had grown longer since she'd last seen him, and he'd resorted to tying it back with a leather string that somehow made him appear a lot older, more like a seventh year than a fifth.

Despite being in a different house to her own, Alphard Black had become the only person she dared call a best friend. They'd met in their first year and while animosity over grades had kept them apart, it was through the tutoring club that she found him the most tolerable. While he wasn't as keen on teaching as she was, he was nevertheless good enough to assist her and eventually they'd come to a mutual understanding of tolerance, and later, had become fond of eachother.

"Everly, is that a  _prefects_  badge I see?" Alphard shortened the distance between them, reaching a hand out to stroke the pin on her muggle inspired jacket. "Not surprising, I was sure Professor Dippet would make you one."

"Who became the prefect for Slytherin?" Everly asked, blinking at the absence of one on him.

"Go on, take a wild guess. It's only the easiest one you'll ever make," he muttered, clearly nonplussed at having been overlooked for the role.

Everly pressed her lips together and thought. "That Riddle boy?" she proposed, thinking of the only other Slytherin she happened to hear a lot about but had never exactly spoken to.

"Professor Dippet's golden boy, yes. We're all supposed to feel sorry for him, being an orphan and all but between you and me, there's something..." Alphard made a face of disgust and shuddered, " _off_  about him that I'm not buying into. The whole of Slytherin is obsessed with him though."

Everly blinked and though curious enough to ask more, the sounds of the train made her all too aware of the fact that she was supposed to be reporting for her prefect's duty. Queasy about being late, she shoved her trunk at Alphard and hefted her cat's basket into his arm, careful not to disturb Paper out of his nap.

His face lit up despite being packed on with her things in a rather rude manner. His voice was set into a whisper filled with awe, his eyes glued on the white-spotted black cat as he asked, "You got a c—?"

"Find a compartment," she ordered briskly. "I'll be round to change into my robes when I can."

"You owe me a Galleon for this!" he called after her but she had other things to worry about, like making a good impression to everyone that she deserved the honor of being a prefect. Humming happily to herself, she rushed to the head of the train to receive her orders.

**.**

**.**

Her fellow Ravenclaw prefect was a Muggle-born boy by the name of Steven Calloway and he was getting on her nerves.

Calloway, for reasons she found unfathomable, seemed to have something of a fancy for her. His eyes kept following her movements and he seemed unable to speak when her eyes were on him, his face going impossibly bright red. All the while she was busy keeping a watch on troublemakers in their compartments and navigating the lanes for those adventurous few that wanted to slip out and explore the train, and he'd been nothing but useless at her side while she'd lectured them.

Of course, she'd known Calloway for years, ever since they were eleven and had been sorted into the same house. She could remember sitting across from him, him shyly admitting that he was new to everything magic and the red-cheeked shame that filled his expression when an overhearing Slytherin had called him a Mudblood for it. He'd been in her first formation of the tutoring club, having struggled adapting to everything that was so new and strange to him. She could recall telling him a great deal of things about the Wizarding world and had helped raise his potions grade to an E, but as the years progressed she could not say she'd seen a great deal of him.

Everly normally would have been quite happy to see he had come as far as joining her as a prefect if it hadn't been for his behavior, which she found distracting and worrying.

"Well," she said, checking her watch, "it should be time to change into our robes. Best be quick."

"Ever—"

"Be quick," she called after him, already off to the compartment she'd spied Alphard sitting in with Slytherins of their year that had come as a surprise to her seeing him with. Mulciber, Avery, and Nott were all boys he'd complained to her about, and she'd thought for a second she'd seen him with his second cousin, Orion Black, who they both tended to shudder when hearing the name of.

Her, because two summers ago she'd heard the news that Orion was intended to be her fiancé despite him being a full two years younger than her. His father, Arcturus, was a dear friend of her own and somehow the two had thought it was an excellent idea, the announcement having come as a nasty shock to her when she'd been under the impression she could choose her husband for herself.

Alphard, on the other hand, found speaking about his family something of a discomfort. He was something of a black—white?—sheep to the Blacks, as he preferred to be left to his own and found associating with any of his family in public to be a tad bit embarrassing seeing as it was a family known like royalty to the Wizarding community (as far as Slytherin's were concerned, that is).

For all Alphard liked to accomplish things, he wasn't much for the spotlight. It was something they shared in common actually.

Everly walked past compartments and pulled up to where she could see Alphard scowling in the window, his hand protectively cupping Paper to his chest. Mildly alarmed, she slid the door open, peering at the faces of Mulciber, Avery, Nott and Orion, and found, to her surprise, that the Riddle boy was sitting across from Alphard. With his newly minted prefects badge glinting on his chest, he'd tipped his head back to laugh.

He looked up a second into her entrance, a strangely curved smile on a face she might have thought handsome if she didn't get such a bad feeling meeting his gaze. She didn't linger on the odd sensation climbing through her nervous system. Instead, she could recognize him now as the boy she'd once shared her Charms class with, at least in her first year. Her hours had switched around in the next so that Hufflepuffs could share those classes with Ravenclaw.

Vaguely, she recalled how he'd amazed everyone with his ability to perform the incantations on first try, and even more, had been so polite and quiet that the entire class had grown smitten with him. All through the years his talent hadn't seemed to diminish; she was always hearing things about him, usually from swooning girls who seemed to think he hung the moon. Everly had never cared too much, book in hand and fellow students to help teach.

"Who's this?" Mulciber sneered, jerking his chin towards her.

"My fiancé," said Orion.

"My best friend," said Alphard.

"Everly Greengrass," said Everly. "Aurelia is my middle name, if you insist on further details."

Riddle's brow went up. "A Greengrass—shouldn't you be in Slytherin then?"

"Don't be daft," Everly said impatiently. "The Sorting Hat decides all that."

Orion turned up his nose at her while the others hardened their expressions at her tone. "Weren't you a Hatstall?"

"Deliberated for a full fifteen minutes," Alphard noted, getting up to help her trunk off the rack after handing her Paper, who curled into her arms with a soft mewl of greeting. She knelt down to get her cloak out of her trunk, and quickly shut it to keep the others from gawking at her things.

"A waste then," Riddle said. "You're that girl who's second best in our year, aren't you?"

" _Second_  best?" Everly narrowed her eyes, meeting his dark-eyed gaze and surprised by the softening of his expression as he looked on at her. There was something distasteful about it, she found, though she couldn't pinpoint what. It looked disingenuous to her, like a mask covering the underneath, as if he were purposely making a point to appear charming and pleasant.

"Ain't no one better than Vol—Tom here," Mulciber said, his cheeks coloring at his stutter.

She threw her cloak around her at the sound of the train's whistles, and stood facing the compartment of boys that had their gazes on her, awaiting her response. Alphard was a bit green in the face, looking on with worry at Riddle and her.

"The best, second best, things like that don't matter," she said with a scoff and a sweeping of her bright gold hair from underneath her cloak. "Don't you know? What matters most is what you  _do_ , much more than what you are."

And with that, she picked up her trunk and settled Paper in his basket before leaving to depart the stationing train.

**.**

**.**

"Find me in the library after this," Alphard said, leaning in to whisper in her ear after she'd sat down at the Ravenclaw's table for the annual Sorting.

"Wait," she tried calling after him but to no avail. Didn't he realize they were supposed to be going to their rooms after this? And that as prefect, she'd have to be the one to lead the new students to the Ravenclaw dorms? That boy, he was going to get her in trouble on her first day.

"What's he want?" LilyAnn Rosett asked, her eyes trailing after his back with a dreamy sort of look befalling her.

Everly shrugged evasively.

"You certain there's nothing between the two of you?" LilyAnn's brown eyes had narrowed on her.

Everly's nose wrinkled at the thought of what LilyAnn was asking.

" _No_. He's like a brother to me. Beside, I'm  _engaged_ ," she muttered, gazing at her golden plate mutinously as she waited for the Sorting to be over with so she could eat.

"Has he mentioned liking anyone?" LilyAnn asked, leaning in with great interest.

"You should look on with affection to another boy," Aileua Lovegood said in a sonorous voice with kindness in her eyes.

"Why?" LilyAnn wondered, appearing disgruntled by Aileua's attention, which most found to be unnerving at best, and bizarrely strange at worst. She was a quiet girl who spent most of her time warning others of the dangers of imaginary beasts, placing fervent belief in their existing.

"That boy is from a family that doesn't think too nicely of Muggle-borns. Isn't that right?" Aileua turned her gaze onto Everly.

"Unfortunately," she answered. "They'd strike him from the family if he were to ever fancy one, I think."

LilyAnn understandably didn't look too happy about that, but before she could say anything, the first years had started filling into the Great Hall, ill looks of apprehension and terror on the faces of the majority of them.

Somehow, she found her gaze flitting from them to that Riddle boy she'd spoken to earlier. He'd been laughing when the doors had opened, but now he sat with a calm—fake—smile, waving a hand to hush his friends who silenced themselves immediately.

She spied Alphard a few seats down from him, a grim look on his face. Inspired most likely by Walburga, who sat next to him with her smitten gaze on Riddle, uncaring to the sound of the Sorting Hat singing it's song about the Houses of Hogwarts. Of his family, Alphard despised his older sister Walburga the most. He thought her to be annoying.

_Oh, joy_ , Everly thought. She was going to listen to him complain for the upteempth time about Walburga and pretend that she cared even a little bit.

Alphard met her gaze and gave her a long suffering look. With a sigh, she realized that she'd have to run the risk of being caught with him, else she'd have the silent treatment to look forward to.

"Greengrass, Erebus," called Transfigurations professor, Albus Dumbledore.

She tuned into the Sorting just in time to see Erebus striding to the stool, looked on by the staff and pale-faced for it. With a defiant jut to his chin, he hopped onto the stool and let the hat come down on his head.

"SLYTHERIN!"

Cheers erupted and Erebus looked slightly more alive, the color coming back into his cheeks, a dazed smile finding its way onto his face as he spotted Everly and waved. He rushed to the Slytherin tables quickly after that, noticing all the eyes on him.

She snuck another glance at Riddle, couldn't be too sure why, and found his gaze on her brother. Everly clenched her teeth at the sight, disturbed for reasons she found inexplicable. It was a bit exasperating actually.

Nevertheless, the feast began shortly after, and as the hour wore on, it was ended only by the clap of Professor Dippet's hand and a shout as he addressed the students.

"Before we tuck ourselves into bed this night, some word of advice; any rule-breaking will be met with corporal punishment, which will be mete out by the grounds caretaker with the additional risk of point reduction to your house total. Consider yourselves warned and engage with others in a dignified manner befitting Hogwarts, our esteemed School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Prefects," he said, lightning his tone to address them but appearing no less shrewd, "direct our first years to their respective common rooms. You are dismissed."

Everly rose and said over the din that seemed to burst after the silence of listening to Professor Dippet speak, "First years, Ravenclaw, here, here!"

Calloway materialized by her side, still looking as if he'd never manage another word in is life if he remained near her. He let her call to the first years on her own, and feeling rather annoyed, she began to treat him as invisible.

She led the eager ten and eleven year olds out of the Great Hall, shouting, "Ravenclaw Tower this way, if you please!"

They traveled westward and began to walk the stairs that would lead them to the fifth floor, all while she filtered out the sounds of their chattering in favor of pointing out to those who cared to listen, the most notable paintings on the wall, and its history. They watched the subjects move about in their paintings, heard the laughter coming from them as they enjoyed a festive party for the start of the year.

"Who's she?" someone asked, a girl with gleaming black hair.

She hadn't been pointing to a portrait though, rather, it was the Gray Lady herself, looking as haughty and aloof as ever. She passed by them without a word.

"Gray Lady," Everly explained. "Ghost of Ravenclaw—you'll see every house has one. The Bloody Baron for the Slytherins, Nearly Headless Nick for the Gryffindors, and Fat Friar for the Hufflepuffs."

Everly kept them walking until they reached a spiral staircase that as soon as they reached the top of, revealed a door with no doorknob or keyhole and had been affixed with only one thing.

"This," she indicated the door-knocker that had been shaped into an eagle, "is what you knock with. Once you've done that, it'll give you a riddle that if you get wrong, you'll be on your own waiting for someone else to get right. Until you get used to it, might be best to travel in pairs," she suggested, thinking of her own first year.

Everly turned to the door and knocked.

"What always ends everything?" the eagle asked.

"Death," said a first year in the back, at the same time she had answered, "the letter g."

"Was it too obvious?" the eagle wondered, swinging the door open.

"As you can see," Everly told the students gazing at the door in awe, "many of the riddles can have many answers. Rather than waiting for someone to give you the right one, don't be afraid to create your own. A good rule of thumb is that if it can be logicked the right way, the door will let you in anyway."

With that said, she moved aside to let them begin filling the airy common room, listening to their oohs and ahhs over the arched windows hung with blue and bronze silks, as well as the midnight blue carpet accented by stars, stars that had been reflected onto a domed ceiling. Further, the room had been furnished with dark-wood tables, plush chairs, and several bookcases. The room's most notable feature, however, was the tall white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw herself, sat next to the door heading up into the dormitories.

"Your things have already been delivered to your beds, if you'll pass through there," she pointed out, in case it wasn't obvious. Excitement in each of their faces, first years went hastily to the dorms and older students shuffled after them, yawning and looking on in bemusement.

It took a while, a lot longer than she would have liked, but by twelve, the common room had emptied and everyone had gone off to bed. Not her though, she had to see what her idiot of a best friend wanted with her.

With great reluctance, she slipped out and down the spiral staircase, careful as she snuck around to listen for anyone who might be around to catch her. It made her progress in reaching the library slow, but eventually, she managed to get in and opened the closed doors with a wince when they squeaked.

Minutes later, Everly found Alphard near the Restricted Reading section, a hulking figure in the darkness. She might have been more apprehensive to close the distance between them had her wand not been shining brightly after having whispered, " _Lumos_." She could see enough of him to know it wasn't a teacher.

"That was a bad idea, being rude to the golden boy," Alphard said first thing as she got close enough to whisper, clearly uneasy.

"He was rude first," she muttered indignantly, straightening her spine. "He called me  _second best_."

Alphard snorted at this, shaking his head with traces of exasperation and amusement in his expression.

"It's true! You heard him yourself."

"' _The best, second best, things like that don't matter_ '," he said in a higher registry, mimicking her with a crack finding his voice on the last word. He was utterly shameless.

Glaring, she clenched her hands into fists before relaxing with a hand to her hip. "Tell me what I'm doing here already."

Alphard shook his head, muttering to himself, "She has no idea, does she?"

Her tone turned venomous. "None at all."

He tried to look innocent. "I'm  _warning_  you, is all, Ev. Against that Riddle boy," he added at her bewildered expression.

"Why?"

"Because he kept looking over at the Ravenclaw's table and I  _know_  he wasn't looking at Aileua Lovegood."

"You're lying," she stated matter-of-factly.

"How do you claim that?"

"Because I kept looking at him," Everly said, ignoring his look of outrage.

"Don't!"

"I can do what I want."

"But  _why_?"

"Because he's as off as you were calling him."

It took a moment for him to process that, but when he did, Alphard beamed at her.

"You noticed too?"

"It's hard not to," she muttered, and then with a tight frown, asked, "But what were you doing in that compartment anyway?"

His smile fell away and instead a look of disgust filled his features. "Your loving husband to be saw me, dragged me in with him. He thought because I'm a fifth year, we'd fit in with the other fifth years there. Walburga kept talking about Riddle all summer, must have made Orion curious."

"Why do you dislike him so much?" Everly asked, growing curious. When he stalled his answer, she added, "Is it jealousy?"

Alphard pulled away, insulted. "No  _way_. Riddle loves attention and you know me, I find it utterly sickening."

"Then why?" she asked, baffled.

"He likes to collect people he thinks will be useful," Alphard said after a long moment of contemplation. "Outside looking in, I don't think any of the poor gits that follow him are really important to him. Not like you are to me, or anything resembling friendship."

"Has he attempted to collect you?" She wondered if that could explain his seemingly intense dislike for him.

"Unfortunately, but that stopped after second year. When he thinks you're too independent to be submissive, he moves on to easier targets that meet his criteria. I've noticed it happening with others that fell out of favor with him, which is when it turns really ugly."

"What do you mean?"

"You won't find any proof of this, they're very careful around the professors, but those followers of his?" Alphard dropped his pitch to a whisper. "Especially the more violent sort, well, they, you know, they beat on them, the kids that don't drop everything to worship him."

Everly found herself swallowing a gasp, almost not wanting to believe but knowing Alphard wouldn't lie to her about something like this. "That's  _awful_! Is that what happened to you?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, because unlike you, I can pretend convincingly that I like people when I actually hate them."

Still concerned, she asked, "You mentioned a criteria, what is it?"

"Being pureblood, for one. Being in Slytherin, for two. And having parents that work in the Ministry, but that's just a bonus for extra points with him."

"Creep," she muttered.

Alphard looked relieved upon hearing the word. "You understand now, right?"

"Yes."

"That you have to avoid him?"

"That I have to put a stop to him," she corrected.

Alarmed, he cried, "Ev!"

"I can't have him bullying others, he's a  _prefect_. That's a dignity I can't let him tarnish," she hissed.

"You'll have to find proof for that, and it won't be easy," Alphard warned her darkly.

"I know—"

"Orion will be heartbroken to see his fiancée is sneaking off with his cousin behind his back," a new voice interjected, a few feet off from them.

"Riddle," she said by way of greeting, her tone dismissive. Yet underneath her projected calm, Everly felt her skin crawl and her heart gave a start that made her breathless. How much had he heard?

"Greengrass, you should know to be more responsible, being a prefect and all." Though his wand's light cast his face in shadow, he appeared to be smiling— _smirking_ , more like.

"What about you? What are you doing here?" Everly asked, scowling at this sort of arrogance.

"Me? I'm returning this book at the request of Professor Slughorn." Riddle lifted the book in his other hand for emphasis, his tone still painfully polite.

Her patience had run dry, and with her inner mind insisting she didn't have to put up with him, she made her decision quite quickly.

"Al?" Everly said, turning to look at Alphard, who seemed to be doing his best to look invisible. He blinked at her dumbly. "We're leaving now."

"Not so fast. What is it the two of you were discussing?" Riddle asked, his gaze trained solely on her.

"Our elopement," she said, taking Alphard's hand in hers as she dragged him past Riddle, who raised a brow at them, appearing none too impressed.

Nevertheless, he didn't try stopping them again.

**chapter one - end**

 


	2. Act One: Astra Inclinant, Sed Non Obligant

_**Act One** _

**Astra Inclinant, Sed Non Obligant**

_2nd September, 1942_

Everly woke up with flashes of images searing through her mind, dispelling all other thought. Fear pinned her to her bed, sending her violently shaking beneath the covers. It was all she could do to keep her hands clutched tightly to her chest, managing a few gasps for help as her awareness of the world fell away and all she was left with was a voice that was not her own, and the sight of a—

No, no,  _no_. She didn't want to  _see it!_

She could hear herself sobbing.

"Ever!" LilyAnn's voice called to her, and she felt hands on her shoulders, shaking her.

It took a moment, and eventually LilyAnn had to begin prying Everly's arms from her chest, just to allow her to breathe. Finally, fighting against whatever had taken hold of her, Everly opened her eyes and allowed air to fill her lungs.

"It's happened again," LilyAnn said, concern in her voice. She watched Everly struggle to sit up in bed, weariness in her brown-eyed gaze. "You certain you don't need to go to St. Mungo's?"

Everly nodded, not trusting her voice. She still felt afraid, and though the sunlight pouring in through an arched window, showcasing a perfect view of the outside scenery, was enough to take her further from it, she still couldn't shake that  _feeling_. Confused and distraught, she wiped the tears that had slipped down her cheeks and stood from the bed with legs that nearly buckled.

Paper meowed inquiringly as he came to stand at her feet and with great effort, she focused her mind on getting him breakfast and herself dressed.

Something awful was going to happen, she just knew it.

**.**

**.**

Everly spent most of the morning helping the first year girls, answering questions about Hogwarts, and when breakfast ended, directing lost students to their classes after they'd received their schedules for the year. Escaping the craze, she was heading to the library, lucky enough that her Wednesday schedule had a free hour to allow the stargazing Astronomy classes in the evening.

"Miss Greengrass," Madam Cromwell, the librarian, said in greeting as Everly stole through the doors.

She nodded back, smiling, and set off to find a table where she could pour over history books dealing with information on the goblin wars. She had History of Magic to look forward to next, and with Professor Binns, an aging man who spoke every word in a droning tone that sent half the class napping and the other using glazed eyes to stare off into nothingness, she knew even she'd have difficulty following along to take accurate notes.

Everly spent the hour reading about Ragnuk the First, the accidental death of Nagnok, the imprisonment of Hodrod the Horny-Handed, and the decree of 1631, which had banned wand usage by any magical being with the exception of wizards and witches. By the time her watch chirped, "Time for class!", she'd written nineteen inches worth of notes and her hand was beginning to cramp. On the brightside, she seemed to be one of the few in class who already knew the details of what was being discussed.

Next was Transfigurations with Professor Dumbledore, a man with graying red hair and twinkling, precocious blue eyes. He was a  _brilliant_  man, and though she was shy to admit it out loud—her father had a certain distaste for the Head of Gryffindor—Professor Dumbledore was her favorite teacher at Hogwarts. Rather than lessons feeling like lessons, they felt more like games for the whole class to enjoy themselves, something engaging and productive. He did not let his students get too frustrated with failure, reminding them that in every attempt, they learned something still.

Not that it was her best subject—that was Potions—but it  _was_  her favorite class.

"We'll be learning Vanishing Spells this year," Professor Dumbledore said to the attentive students that stood in groups of four. "They are easier than Conjuring Spells, but nevertheless  _difficult_. First, the incantation, repeat after me,  _evanesco_."

"Evanesco," the class echoed.

"Where do Vanished objects go?" he asked, moving around the room to meet their gazes individually.

Everly's hand shot up and when his eyes landed on her, he had a knowing smile curling at his mouth.

"Yes, Miss Greengrass?"

"Into non-being, in other words, everything."

"Excellent!" Professor Dumbledore reached into his robe to pull out a sweet. He tossed it to her, a bit off the mark, and clapped with laughter when she levitated it hastily into her palm. It was Drooble's Best Blowing Gum in the crazyberry flavoring, wrapped in see-through blue. With an embarrassed look around the room, she decided to save it for later and pocketed the gum.

"We'll start with snails," he said, turning back to the class. "As invertebrates, the complexity will be low enough that most of you should grasp this much easier than if we were to try mammals, though we shall get to them in time."

After Transfigurations came Herbology with Professor Beery, who decided for the first day of class to go over a refresher of all they had already learned in the past four years. Everly presumed most teachers would be doing the same; O.W.L's necessitated an understanding from the very basics to the more complex magic, and fifth year was meant to be a year of reflection on what they'd already learned.  _Proof_  that they'd learned it.

Everly was already nervous thinking of the exams. If she couldn't get every O.W.L possible, she'd never be able to face herself in the mirror again. Surely, Everly Greengrass had become synonymous with 'know-it-all' and 'if you don't know, ask her', the student teacher that never gave up on her fellows. With her hair perfectly coiffed, makeup set perfectly on her skin, Everly liked to give the impression of perfection that she'd so admired in her mother.

Lunch came and went.

Care of Magical Creatures followed—they were to be studying bowtruckles—and then Arithmancy, the study of numbers in magic, said to allow for predictions of the future, another of her favorites.

The whole day was filled with the buzz of energized students fresh-faced from a summer out of school, noisy conversations in the hall about things they'd gotten up to while away, and most bizarrely, she kept seeing Tom Riddle.

When she closed her eyes, she saw him, and when traversing to other classes, she kept catching glimpses of his profile. Once, she'd nearly met his gaze but had darted into class quickly after, confused by the feeling of uneasiness his presence gave her.

Her mind kept drawing back to what happened that morning, what she'd nearly seen but had fought against. Troubled, she returned to her room and rather than catch up on her reading, she lay there on her bed and kept thinking, thinking about  _him_ , what Alphard had told her, and wondered what it was that kept drawing her back to thoughts about someone she didn't really find all that interesting.

It certainly wasn't because she had a sudden, burgeoning fancy for Riddle. In years past, she'd barely registered his existence and now, with what little information she had about him, she didn't understand how she could spend most of the day ruminating on just him. If he really was as awful as Alphard had said, was really a bully disguised under a prefect's badge, then she knew she'd have to do something about it—but that didn't mean she had to be  _thinking_  about him so much.

Everly gave up trying to close her eyes, kept seeing the outline of his face when she did, and instead headed to the common room, where curious first years might have questions for her.

"What's corporal punishment?" "What do I do if I get locked out of the common room and no one is there to give me the right answer!?" "Are the ghosts  _real_  ghosts?" "Why do the stairs sometimes move on their own?" "Are the people in the paintings real?"

On and on, it went, and by the time evening had approached and Astronomy classes were about to begin, Everly had a headache that kept her miserable.

It got worse.

Gryffindor and Slytherin were joining them for the lesson and it seemed the whole fifth year had arrived on top of the Astronomy Tower by the time the stars were beginning to surface. She felt like she was about to vomit when she saw Riddle striding over to join the others in his house, followed by familiar faces she could hardly match names with when she was struggling to stay upright.

"Isn't this great?" Alphard asked as he approached her, grinning. "I can't remember the last time we shared a class with Ravenclaw. They tend to try giving the idiots in Hufflepuff a leg up, being around the geniuses. That's how it works with the Slytherin and Gryffindor shared classes anyway." He gave a wink and grinned, adding, "Brave their souls may be, intelligence need not be required in their lot."

Despite everything, Everly laughed. "Al, you're being a prat."

"I'm being  _observant_ ," he said, unfazed.

Shaking her head in bemusement, she pointed to their professor for the class who was attempting to quiet them and made room for Alphard to be beside her with his telescope.

This year, they were studying Jupiter and its moons.

"What reason do you think they have for bunching us all up this year?" Alphard asked and Everly took a moment to note something down before looking at him.

"I don't think they're letting the first years stay up till midnight for their Astronomy lessons, parents complaining could be the cause," she said. "And with all the studying we fifth years will be doing for the exams, I don't think they want to let us stay up that late either, unless they give us later mornings to compensate. But then, I presume, that'd just complicate the teacher's schedules even more."

"Well, I'm not complaining. Now, I'll be able to cheat off the smartest girl in our year," Alphard said brightly.

She snorted. "As if. You're not an idiot who needs his hand held."

"Glowing praise, coming from you."

"No chatting!" Professor McGillicuddy snapped.

" _Bugger_ —how long do you think this arrangement will last?" Alphard whispered, looking on at the other fifteen year olds who found it much more interesting to be passing around snacks and laughing over the sound of the professor attempting to reign them in. It was mostly the Gryffindor students being the most raucous.

"Not long," she muttered, and oddly, felt eyes on her.

She turned to see Riddle's back a few meters away, the back of his head tipped to the side as if listening for something.

"Do you think my father would like to attend our wedding?" she asked Alphard.

"I should hope so!" he said, looking outraged. "He loves me, you know. Didn't even glare last time I came round at yours. I'd call that progress."

Everly giggled. "Your mother will be  _so_  pleased."

"With Walburga around, it's rather easy to seem the better daughter, of course she'd be happy." Amused, he looked at her with curiousness, looking on the verge of asking a question.

"Do you remember what Europa is covered with?" Everly asked abruptly, seeing Professor McGillicuddy approaching.

"Lice?"

" _Ice_ ," Professor McGillicuddy said with an indignant sniff before moving on to tell a Gryffindor to step back from the edge of the tower.

" _Ice_ ," Alphard mimicked childishly, glowering at their teacher's back. "No sense of humor," he muttered under his breath and shook his head.

"Were you going to ask something?"

"Oh, right. Do you think your father actually hates me, or is that just who he is?"

"A bit of both, maybe."

Alphard looked at her incredulously. "Both?"

"He's usually rather... you know. Has been ever since, well,  _you know_. I'd say it's just him being overprotective but I don't think he considers you a threat, more of an annoyance after the falling out he had with your father."

"Oh, yeah, I forget that happened when we were five."

"I wish he didn't—I wish he didn't care so much about—I don't think it's right that he," Everly paused, scrambling for words but unable to find a phrase accurate enough.

"Believe in persecuting the sons for their father's mistakes?" Alphard offered.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly, "that."

"Well, it's not so bad actually. I get to reap the benefits of my father's successes too," he said with a smirk.

"True," she remarked in wry amusement.

"GET AWAY FROM THERE!" Professor McGillicuddy bellowed and with a jolt, Everly turned just in time to see a boy from Gryffindor walking the line of the tower's edge, arms out for balance. He was laughing, nearly doubling over when, accompanied by screams of horror, he fell off.

Those closest to him rushed over to catch him, but with a sinking feeling in her gut, Everly feared for the worst. She almost closed her eyes, hands sailing up to cover them.

" _Wingardium leviosa!"_  a new voice edging into the familiar said, breaking the hysterics, and it with shocked gasps echoing one another, everyone watched the Gryffindor boy come floating back up by what looked to be his cloak. He was purple-faced by the time he landed, but otherwise fine, and when he managed to stand up alright, people began to cheer.

"Brilliant, Tom!"

"Quick wand work, there!"

"Oh, you stupid boy!" Professor McGillicuddy cut in, furious as he dragged the Gryffindor by the ear towards the door. "Out of my class, I will  _not_  tolerate it! It's corporal punishment, for you, Mister Pansley!"

The both of them disappeared and conversations erupted in full force in the absence of an authority figure, everyone turning to Riddle to compliment him on his heroic act with sycophantic gazes. Everly had no idea what to think as she looked at him, a bit dumbfounded by that grin on his face that edged on being a gloating sneer.

"No, this arrangement won't be lasting long at all," Alphard commented beside her.

If only that had been the truth.

**.**

**.**

By the time they filed in for the dinner feast, and everyone had been seated, Everly attempted to look regal despite the bone-deep exhaustion she was feeling. Food sounded good to her, and she had promised herself she'd be eating more than she'd usually allow herself to. An extra slice of banoffee pie, or bakewell tart, something to raise her spirits.

Everly looked over to her brother, hoping to be cheered up and instead found herself knocking her knees against the underside of the table as she attempted to shoot up to a standing position. With an unuttered curse, she rubbed feeling back into her banged knees and looked again, just to be certain what she was seeing was real.

" _That rat_ ," she whispered softly, watching Erebus practically  _beam_  as he sat right next to Tom Riddle, talking with the brightest grin she'd seen on him in a long while. Alphard was not far off, looking absolutely miserable. Their gazes met and when she gave him a pointed glare, he shrugged helplessly.

"Your brother is an idiot," Alphard mouthed.

"You're an idiot," she mouthed back, feeling both ravenous and mutinous in equal spades.

Soon, after a short word from Professor Dippet, the food arrived and it was with maddened relish that Everly dug in. Well, inasmuch as she allowed herself to eat in such a way. In spite of everything, she'd been raised to only ever show the best of manners under any and all occasions and even catching glimpses of other eating with haste, she took her time and slowly chewed each bite.

"There was a recent sighting of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, I hope you know," Aileua was saying with all certainty to Gilbert Brady. "They exist as surely as we do."

"Oh, all that stuff is just rubbish. Only the delusional believe in that tripe," Brady said with a sneer of disgust.

If she felt put off by this at all, Aileua didn't show it. Rather, she seemed perfectly calm and content.

"My brother is going to try and find it," she said.

"I don't see why you're calling it rubbish," Everly cut in, pointedly looking at Brady with caustic eyes.

"Why  _wouldn't_  I? There's not a single shred of proof that isn't reliant on some halfwit's first person account that has nothing but their word to trust. As if I'd believe the minds of  _their_  like, under every influence ever known to Wizardkind."

"Sounds like you're a believer who's been scorned," LilyAnn noted behind a giggle as she watched on.

"Some unbelievable creatures have got to exist," Everly said, at Aileua's eager nodding. "It's not as if we can be everywhere at once. Some places are so briefly touched, who's to say a rare beast or two isn't off gallivanting in the wilderness where only the rarest of souls come across?"

"You disappoint me, Greengrass," Brady said, shaking his head solemnly. "You're meant to be the brightest of our year."

"Not with that Tom Riddle boy around, no," LilyAnn mumbled, sneaking a glance over at the table.

Everly couldn't—she  _couldn't_  look over again. The last time had nearly made her honk.

"What do you mean?" Aileua asked, seeming perplexed.

"Well, he's brilliant, isn't he? The way he saved that git of a Gryffindor was spectacular! A real corker, if you ask me."

"He's a  _Slytherin_ ," Brady hissed derisively.

"I prefer them," LilyAnn confessed. "They're a lot more fun, anyway. There's this girl, Cassie, sixth year, she's constantly on the piss, has a collection of firewhiskey you would not  _believe_. Even keeps it hidden from the professors, though I don't know how she manages to pull off a feat like that. It's bloody brilliant."

Everly curled her lip in disgust but couldn't find the energy to call a spade a spade and express her distaste for such behavior.

"I like butterbeer a lot more than firewhiskey," Aileua said, taking a drink from her goblet of pumpkin juice.

"I like coffee," Brady said with a shy grin. "It's muggle produced, but quite addictive."

"I'll stick with tea," Everly murmured.

"Boring, boring, the whole lot of you. Now,  _Slytherin_ , that's where all the interesting ones are." LilyAnn grinned, and sighed dreamily looking over at their table. "Tom Riddle is the best catch of them all, wouldn't you say?"

"What happened to Alphard?" Everly asked, a bit insulted for him.

"I met the little gobshite tike Orion today," she said, presuming that was enough information. It indeed was. "No way would I want to be related in anyway to  _that_."

"He's my husband to be."

LilyAnn looked ill. "My deepest condolences."

"I'm hoping to somehow pawn him off on Walburga, Alphard's sister. They seem made for each other in their horridness."

LilyAnn wrinkled her nose. "How closely related?"

"Second cousins."

"Bleeeh. Never can understand that whole pureblood mania, seems counterproductive."

"It is," Everly agreed. "But I have no room to judge. In my direct family line alone, I have my fair share of second cousin marriages, even first cousins. I also happen to be related to the Blacks, the Malfoys, and a smattering of other pureblooded families. Makes my marriage prospects rather bleak, doesn't it?"

"I wish we didn't have to think about marriage already. We're only fifteen," Aileua said, in a rare moment of commiseration and wilted spirits.

"Well,  _I'm_  not getting married," LilyAnn said happily. "I decided it this morning. I'll be getting a job instead. I want to work for the  _Daily Prophet_."

 _I wish I could say the same_ , Everly thought sourly, jealous of the Muggle-born. It certainly wasn't for the first time.

"Might want to stick with  _Witch Weekly_ ," Brady muttered, to the three glaring faces of the girls he'd chosen to sit with for dinner. After swallowing, he held up his hands to pacify them, looking uneasy. "Was joking."

"Prat," the three girls chorused before excluding him from their continued conversation.

Dinner ended soon after, and with belly full and mind focused more on discussions of recent news in the  _Prophet_ , it was only when laying in bed, petting her cat, that Everly's thoughts strayed back to what she had seen, and unfortunately, like an itch she couldn't scratch, Riddle began to occupy her miserable thoughts. She couldn't escape it.

He was making a ploy to win her brother over, was he? She'd blight him with a walloping of hexes to last weeks, if he tried to do anything low. Everly recalled the sycophantic gazes from earlier and with a churning stomach, tried not to point out how Erebus hadn't looked too far off from that.

 _Look after your brother_ , her father had told her. Well, she was nothing if not the ever dutiful daughter.

**.**

**.**

In the days that followed, her experience that had occurred on Wednesday morning tripled and by the time Friday came around, and she was to attend her first Divination class of the year, Everly was beginning to sorely suspect what it was that was happening.

She wasn't daft; she'd known something was amiss in her head for years, but never before had her little...  _issue_  been as violent as it had been of late. Still, Everly wasn't about to give in and let it ruin her life.

It was a well known suspicion that the mark of a seer was to invite the prospect of insanity in old age, it was known that even the mind of a witch or wizard could withstand an entire lifetime of visions of past, present, and future. That she had this, this, whatever it was, eating at her brain was enough to keep her from confirming her suspicions on the matter. It was too terrifying.

Then again, it  _could_  easily be something else. There were no seers to her knowledge in her family, and wouldn't it have surfaced long before turning fifteen? It was then she had to remind herself of growing up with the lapses in time she couldn't account for, the horrible, awful feeling that she'd known certain things were coming.

Proper seers were numbered as low as the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, ergo she had no one to ask if this was normal or if she really did need to go to St. Mungos. In a fit of desperation, she turned to  _Unfogging the Future_  and  _The Dream Oracle_ , wondering if it would outlay the symptoms of being a seer.

 _Seers are a mysterious and rather curious strain of wizard and witches_ , Cassandra Vablatsky had written. _Not much has gone into discovering the cause to their remarkable abilities, for a true seer is nigh impossible to find, and the frauds muddy the waters by posing as if they have any shred of understanding to the mystic abilities, an understanding only true seers would possess. Truly, this is an art where the lies and the truths are often indistinguishable, for fakes parade and feed the public assumptions that are simply untrue. And further, the cycle continues._

_What I do know is that no seer's relationship to divination has ever been the same, there are no mirror copy traits found in all of them. Rather, the magic stands as an exception to the rule that all magic make sense, that all magic have logic and reason to explain it. My own experience is this; when I put open my inner eye to the workings greater than myself, I find I am distant to what I see, as if a play is unfolding before me. I have heard of other seers have much more vivid experiences, and some seers, never able to see the future for themselves, merely mindlessly recite prophesy and allow their clients to work the matter on their own, none the wiser of what they've said._

Bollocks. It was all bollocks.

In other words, it was useless in confirming her suspicions. Maddening to boot.

"You look peakish," LilyAnn said at dinner.

Not even having had Defense Against the Dark arts—her second favorite class—or Potions—her best subject—earlier that day had made anything better. Everly should have been worrying about the exams, but instead, her mind was on the possibility of her going insane in the future and the hyper awareness of Tom Riddle's existence gnawing at her when she was least suspecting.

"Professor Slughorn has asked me to attend his dinner party, Monday evening," Everly said, not acknowledging LilyAnn's comment.

"No  _fair_!" LilyAnn groused enviously. "Tom Riddle should be there, as well as all the other interesting Slytherin boys. Professor Slughorn and his favorites," she muttered with a sneer. "Should have known you'd be picked, Miss Perfect Prefect."

Everly tried not to flinch at the mentioning of  _his_  name. "I think I might not go."

"I'll be there," Aileua said, clear-eyed and smiling.

"How did  _you_  get picked? He only takes on the Ministry kids and the especially talented," Brady said with a frown. He'd been sticking to them an awful lot for reasons unknown. The way he was looking at Aileua might've been one, but with the way he badgered her...

"She's quite good at Potions," Everly cut in.

"I'm pants at it," LilyAnn declared. "No more talk of that cursed subject, I will not stand for it."

"You're sitting," Aileua said, smiling serenely.

"Exactly."

"If you're going, I suppose I'll go," Everly said with a sigh. "Alphard might be there too, I believe."

"I like him," Aileua said.

" _Why_?" Brady asked, revolted.

"He's funny and once gave me a Chocolate Frog. It came with a Professor Dippet card, he's quite a stern man."

"Absurd," Brady muttered, glaring at his helping of a bakewell tart.

**.**

**.**

Monday came, and the whole affair  _was_  rather absurd.

Professor Slughorn was a man who would only get thicker with age, with a bald spot the size of a Galleon that would soon stretch, and cheerful, merry smile ready at hand for those he wished to get into the good graces of. Everly's father talked about them sometimes; the Slytherin's that, rather than do every ambitious thing to get to the top, they succeeded in impressing themselves into the good graces of those that could do more of the heavy lifting in social climbing.

Her father thought it was distasteful and, as Professor Slughorn broke into stories about the famous and rich people he'd once taught or had gone to school with, Everly found herself agreeing.

It seemed rather unbecoming, trying to impress children so that they may one day recall your name and raise your social standing. She didn't voice these thoughts out loud, however, most of her attention was placed on, surprise, Riddle.

He seemed to shine in the room, where all the others seemed to blur, less important. Professor Slughorn seemed to struggle giving other invited students the same deference he gave Riddle, and the smug look upon his face said that he was well aware of this.

Everly had to wonder, was it even true that he and his followers bullied and tormented the students that rejected him? She still hadn't seen the proof of it and she'd been watching him more than she'd ever watched anyone else before, seeing him in the halls and tracking him down in the library after classes were done for the day. She was sick of following him, of thinking about him; she wanted to believe she was wrong about him.

She trusted Alphard, of course, but perhaps it was a thing of the past. Perhaps, he truly was taking the prefect's duty seriously.

"Miss Greengrass, your father works for the Ministry, yes?" Professor Slughorn asked her just after she'd taken a drink from her goblet.

"He's the head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, yes," she said in a bored tone, eyeing Riddle over the rim of her cup. He was looking at her, a smirk playing on the fringes of his mouth. Like he knew she'd been thinking of him a week into the school year.

"And you're brother, he's just started, hasn't he? Seems to be as bright as you in the matters of potion-making. Just like his sister, I told him. Miraculous results, better execution than most just following the recipe word for word, and much more advanced than even some seventh years. It's inspiring!"

"Everly here is the dedicated sort," Alphard said with pride. "She never gives anything but her very best."

"I should be taking notes from her then," Riddle said, his eyes shining. He lifted his cup in salute to her. She cooly raised a brow.

"It is rather interesting. Two of the very best students Hogwarts has seen in years, both the same age, and rather good looking," Aileua said, appearing thoughtful. "Have you considered each other?"

Professor Slughorn looked both delighted and scandalized. "Oh, Miss Lovegood, don't—"

"Years previous, I barely registered who he was," Everly murmured, feeling everyone's eyes dart to her.

"And now?" Riddle asked, that smug look upon his face.

"You aren't very interesting. Why do you suspect anything has changed?"

The look fell but it wasn't long before he was laughing, big guffaws that his follower's hesitantly echoed. "You're the one who's been watching me all last week," he said, dark eyes glimmering with mirth.

Her cheeks got hot.

When she said nothing, he carried on, without a look to the fascinated gazes around them, "Well, I quite fancy you, Miss Greengrass. You've been most intriguing since that day on the train."

Oh, Merlin, she could hear the lies. He looked as if he found the idea of liking her even more laughable than  _she_  did.

"You're not convinced?"

"I'm engaged. You should be quite ashamed to be saying such things so brazenly," she said dismissively, ignoring the heat in her cheeks.

"Oh, Orion won't care. He isn't keen on you anyway—sorry to break the news—but Miss Greengrass, inquiring minds want to know, what does one have to do to get into your good graces?"

"To get into her good graces, is to get into mine," Alphard said, and Professor Slughorn's eyes widened fractionally, leaning forward to catch all the details.

"I forget—what is your name?" Riddle asked. Several pairs of eyes bugged.

Everly snorted. "Is this a declaration of your feeble-mind?"

"You wound me," he said with a faux-wince. "I'm genuinely curious to know."

"A lie. You don't care about anything but what pertains to you."

"And why do you say that?"

"I was raised by someone like you."

Actual surprise flickered in his gaze.

"It's true. Her father is a nut," Alphard cut in.

Riddle sat back in his chair, paying him no mind. Rather, he seemed to be watching only her, sneaking glances over the brim of his goblet. She took a deep swallow of her pumpkin juice and said no more.

"Tom isn't a nut!" Fergus Rosier snapped.

"Did I  _stutter_?" Alphard shot back.

Professor Slughorn chuckled with red-cheeked glee. "Settle, settle. There's no reason to raise a fuss."

The dinner carried on, eventually to a close, and—to her surprise—Riddle didn't say another word.

**chapter two - end**

 


	3. Act One: Prefect Is As Prefect Does

_**Act One** _

**Prefect Is As Prefect Does**

_19th September, 1942_

"I think you have me all wrong," Riddle said, inviting himself to sit at her table in the furthest corner of the library.

She stilled her quill and looked up from the essay she was working on for Transfigurations. Professor Dumbledore didn't often give out written assignments, so beyond performing well in class, she needed every word on the parchment to be perfect in order to make a good impression.

"Saying that makes you come off even more of what I already think of you," she said, bored of him.

His feet knocked against hers. "Which is?"

"That you're rather narcissistic. Don't deny it. I've seen the way you smile at people, the smugness bleeds out even if you don't know it. You act as if your followers are only doing right by recognizing you as their king, it's revolting."

Riddle raised a brow. "Been watching me a lot, have you?"

"Have you charmed me into it?" Everly snapped, and even she was surprised by the vehemence in her voice. Frustrated, she glowered at him.

Riddle snorted. "Why would I bother doing that?"

"Prat," she muttered, turning back to her essay.

"Your brother sure likes me—"

Everly kicked him as hard as she could under the table.

Riddle immediately began to groan, leaning his head onto the table and reaching down to rub at his sore leg. When he met her gaze again, he was glaring with something dark in his eyes. She thought it might even be something close to hatred.

While it's effect was chilling, she wasn't cowed.

"Do  _not_ talk about my brother, and if you  _dare_  hurt him, I promise you this, Tom Riddle," Everly leaned forward and reached her hand out to grip the green and silver tie around his neck, tugging him down to meet her gaze, "I'll  _ruin_  you."

"I think you have me all wrong," Riddle said, the beginnings of a smile on his handsome face as he held his palms up and out.

"There's this rumor about you," Everly murmured, relaxing her grip and leaning back in her chair.

"So it works when you're a standout. You have your fair share of them too."

She waved her hand dismissively. "I have no rumors surrounding my name that I lead a group of fellows who bully the weak and break them into mindless followers."

"And I do?"

"You do."

"Well, marvelous thing that it's just a rumor."

"Quite."

They stared at each other.

"Do we both agree that it's a horrendous practice for a prefect to take part in?"

"Of course."

Everly frowned and decided there wasn't anything else she could get from him there. "Can you really speak Parseltongue?"

Riddle's eyes gleamed. "I'm adept."

"What's it like?"

He blinked. "It's like speaking in English. It's not something I have to particularly try for."

"Oh."

"Why do you ask?"

She eyed him. "Just thought I might fancy learning it."

The lines on his face hardened, and for the first time, she thought she was catching a glimpse to what was underneath the mask he wore so well. "It's not something just anyone can do. You have to be..."

Everly quirked a brow. "Special?"

"Right."

"And so, you—you're very special?"

"I suppose that would be a symptom of my abilities and talents, yes." He was smirking.

_Merlin_ , he was arrogant.

"You're special too, you know," he said in the face of her silence. "Quite beautiful, intelligent to boot, born into wealth and class, as pureblooded as they come. I dare say, you are wasted on Orion."

"Is that so?"

"You'd be wasted on that bloke too. Alphard, was it?"

" _Why_  are you pretending to like me?" Everly asked instead of rising to the bait, irritable now that she wasn't getting her essay done as fast as she wanted to.

"I'm not pretending—"

"You want someone to shag now that you've hit puberty, is that it?" she interjected, her tone dripping with scorn. "Is that why you're trying so hard when I've clearly expressed my distaste for you? The other girls are too easy, is that it?"

He had the audacity to blush, his mouth snapping shut.

She'd been more blunt than she meant to be, even she was blushing now.

"Homework for Transfigurations?" Riddle asked, apparently the prospect of shagging being too much of a conversation topic for him to handle. She felt much the same.

"Yes," she said, almost grateful that he was being unexpectedly shy. It was almost... cute.

"I've heard you run a tutoring club, with that reject Black," he said, tapping his finger against the table.

"I do." She raised a brow. "Need the extra help?"

"No. Despite the unkind way you've been treating me, I'm offering my help. When does this club of yours start up?"

"October," she murmured, squinting at him. "Are you sure?"

"How sure are you that you'll make it to Head Girl in our seventh year?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"It means I'm quite sure, and also that I believe it's better we form a working relationship sooner, rather than later."

She felt ill at the thought of forming  _any_  relationship with him.

But well... it would be nice... to have another student teacher... especially so she could study more...

" _Fine_ ," she muttered.

"Excellent. I'll be seeing you," he said, and then left.

It felt for a moment that she might have dreamt the whole thing.

**.**

**.**

A week later and she found he'd been literal when he said he'd be seeing her. It seemed most days she'd glimpse him in the halls and he'd wave at the sight of her, like they were chummy friends who got on much better than they actually did.

It was to the point of rumors she was doing her best to ignore.

"Was it because of what I said?" Aileua asked at one breakfast, seeming perplexed.

"What, that Everly and Tom are being talked about as the school's newest and most talented power couple?" LilyAnn asked, rather amused by the whole thing.

"We aren't a couple," Everly muttered, polishing off her stack of hotcakes and moving to stand.

"Going to the library? I'll come with," Riddle's unfortunately familiar voice said at her back.

She had the good grace not to jolt at the shock it gave her, and inwardly seethed that he never seemed to leave her alone.

"You make a beautiful couple," LilyAnn said to Riddle in all earnesty. "As her friend, I support this completely."

Riddle was laughing at that one all the way to the library.

**.**

**.**

It took her awhile to realize what he was doing—why he was sticking so close to her—and for that, she felt incredibly stupid.

"He's making sure I can't do anything against him," she told Alphard one Astronomy class, while Riddle was distracted enough with his lackeys. "Keeping me in his sights while he lets me see him in mine. It's an attempt to give off the impression that he's innocent. His flirting with me is simply because he thinks I'll be flattered into backing down easier because I'm a girl."

"It fits. Frankly, he doesn't appear to have a very decent opinion on the fairer sex."

Everly didn't quite know how to take that. She settled on asking, "Why do you think that is?"

"Something to do with his mother, I'm assuming."

"Based on what?"

Alphard shrugged. "S'what's been rumored."

"He's an orphan. Perhaps it's from anger that she died, a grudge from feeling abandoned and given up on," Everly murmured.

"Are you angry?" They were no longer talking about Tom Riddle.

"People die, it's what they do." Everly leaned to eye the sky through her telescope, saw the twinkling stars and the purple hues bleeding in as the sun allowed itself to be eaten by the night. She swallowed. "No, I'm not angry."

He didn't ask whether or not she felt abandoned.

**.**

**.**

The start of October brought a surprise.

"I'm joining your tutoring club!" Erebus said, his voice rather squeaky. He kept pitching forward and back on the heels of his feet, as if nervous to be speaking to her.

"Are you struggling with a subject?" Everly asked, wondering if this was the cause to the bizarre case of nerves he was having.

"Only all of them," he confessed with a scrunched face. "Ever, I can't disappoint Dad. You have to help me!"

"Silly boy, of course I'll help." Everly reached out to fluff his curled blond hair. "Tutoring sessions start on the fifth, after classes have ended and before it's time for dinner. You might be pleased to know that Alphard will be there."

"And Tom," Erebus said with an excited grin.

"And him," Everly agreed with a sigh of defeat.

**.**

**.**

"My best subjects are Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Charms," Riddle said on the fourth of October, seated at the table beside Alphard while Everly mapped out the schedule for the club. "But, I'm excellent at most any subject, so I suppose it doesn't matter if I point it out."

Everly grunted. She had a headache and she suspected the cause was him.

"I can handle Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Arithmancy," Alphard said, looking at his cuticles with great interest. It summed up his interests well; animals, nature, and numbers.

Everly wrote all of this down. "I suppose that leaves me Divination, History of Magic, and Transfigurations. Are we forgetting anything else?"

"Astronomy," Riddle and Alphard said.

"I loathe the subject. It's boring," Alphard declared.

"I can handle that too then," she said, amused by his tone and struck by the irony; his family typically named their broods after the constellations.

"Is that it for me today?" Riddle asked and when she looked towards him, she found his eyes were on his watch.

"I suppose," she said carefully. "What are you planning to do after this?"

"I'll try exploring more of the building, I think. It's a magnificent place, isn't it?" Riddle's expression shifted from cool indifference to what Everly saw, for the first time, was genuine excitement. "It's a place of so much history, so many secrets. Bathilda Bagshot doesn't know the half of it when she says there isn't a soul alive who knows all of what is hidden in Hogwarts."

"Can I come with?" she asked, more as a test than anything else. It wasn't as if she actually fancied the thought of spending more time than necessary with him.

Riddle hesitated. "You want to?"

Everly leaned forward on her elbows, resting her chin on the palm of her hands. "Would I ask if I didn't?" The answer to that was yes, but he didn't need to know.

"Maybe next time," he said, which had the reverse effect of disappointment on her.

"Next time then," she lied and watched him get up to go, robes billowing behind him as he went.

"The two of you are bizarre. Why did you let  _him_  join?" Alphard asked, a disgusted sneer on his face when she turned to look at him. "He's abhorrent. Have you actually began to like him? Fallen to his charms, have you?"

Everly ignored all of this. "Get up, we're following him."

" _What_? Why?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't you want to see where he's in a rush to go? Did you see how excited he was? I don't think I've ever seen him show such a genuine show of emotion before."

"You have a point..." Despite saying so, Alphard didn't look to be sure, his lips still curled. "How will we avoid being seen?"

"Disillusionment Charm," she explained, taking out her wand to perform it. "I've been practicing before I go to bed ever since the year started."

He took a moment to look greatly impressed. It wasn't something just any fifth year would know how to do.

"Had it planned, did you, that we'd be trapising after Riddle like it's an afternoon heist we're pulling off? I'm impressed. This change in you is rather becoming, I hope you know."

"Get serious!" Everly snapped, tapping her wand against his shoulder and watching the charm take effect. He disappeared at once to her great relief—her charmwork could be spotty at times—and gave a big laugh.

"Do you, do you!" Alphard said, jumping around and making her realize that upon closer inspection, she could see a blur of sorts, the short second before the chameleon color changing effect took.

Everly twirled her wand around her head, and gave a cheer of her own when she looked down to see her hands had become the color of the carpet.

"Brilliant!" Alphard said, reaching out to clap her on the shoulder.

"We should hurry," Everly said, a smile in her voice.

The excitement was all for naught; they'd taken too long and he'd already disappeared to the point that even splitting up for a short time didn't allow them to catch sight of him. Instead, all they saw was the rare student milling about and the sounds of paintings whispering to one another.

"This isn't fair, you even cast a charm for this," Alphard muttered, just as the charm broke and the both of them were revealed to each other. His black hair looked mussed and had been taken from it's tie; he had to have been running his hands through it. His striking features were haggard.

"We'll have to try again some other time," Everly mumbled, dejected in her own way.

"Well, I'm heading to my common room. I have some assignments I need to get done," Alphard said, already walking away as he waved her off.

And then there was one.

The curiosity kept gnawing at her; what was he  _doing_? Was it really just exploration? She couldn't exactly fault him for that, she'd had her fair share of adventures in Hogwarts, mapping out the best routes to get to each class and sneaking around in her first year.

Everly felt bitter as she looped back to the library to collect her things, and headed up to the second floor, intending to head to her own common room, maybe snuggle with Paper a bit after finishing her class assignments for the day. She had essays to write for six out of the ten classes she had, and most of them were expected to be fourteen and a half inches and were due in the oncoming days.

The fifth year homework rush that she'd heard tales of had not been exaggerated; there hadn't gone a day that she wasn't making last minute edits to her work and fretting over what grade she'd be receiving.

Thankfully, she still had Os in every class. She'd  _faint_  if any of them dropped to an E.

Fighting disappointment, and finding herself concerned about the state of her hair and makeup, Everly made the decision to visit the bathroom, not expecting anything to happen. The halls were empty and silent, save for the painting's muttering. At this hour most students would be with their clubs, inside the library, or their respective common rooms.

At this hour, no one should be inside the girl's bathroom on the second floor.

Except, the closer she got, the louder the sound inside of it became. A keening, high pitched warbling sound emanated, so loud and uncomfortable to hear, Everly had to lift her hands to her ears just to soften the blow of it. Wincing, she stepped past the doorway of the bathroom and swept her gaze at the bottoms of the stalls, looking for feet.

Someone was sobbing, and wasn't it a prefect's job to ensure the student's happiness?

Swallowing, Everly knocked on the door under which she'd spied loafered feet.

There came a loud sniff, and then, "Go away!"

"Miss?" She tried knocking again.

"Go away! I don't want anyone to see me like this," the girl moaned.

"Then, stay where you are and simply talk to me. You don't even have to tell me who you are, just tell me what's wrong."

The girl released a sob before she spoke, and it was with a shuddering breath that she asked, "What isn't wrong? Everything I'm wearing is secondhand, my glasses are outdated and too big for my face, and all the girls in my year have made it perfectly clear what they think of that! They've made fun of everything, my hair, my height, the color of my eyes. I can't even help any of it, it's just the way I  _am_ ," she said with mounting hysterics. "This entire year has been awful, my mum keeps writing, asking how things are, and I keep having to lie, because the truth is I hate it here..."

Everly didn't know what to say. She'd never been bullied by other girls; they'd been too afraid to try. The most she'd ever endured had been teasing about being a 'know-it-all', and that she had a difficult time making friends—but Everly, not seeing the insult in such things, had never let it affect her.

How could she stand there and give advice about something she'd never experienced? She could trying saying to ignore them, but the girl had an obviously difficult time doing that in the first place. Everly would personally be irritated by impersonal general advice, but what could she say?

"Are you still there?" the girl said with a sniff.

"I am," Everly murmured to the door, still thinking. "Who are these girls that are tormenting you?"

She gasped. "Oh, I couldn't tell you  _that_. They'd call me a tattle and be even worse than ever!"

"We can keep it between us," she offered. "I wouldn't report them, but I could do something else about them."

"Like what?"

"They made fun of you for your looks, did they? Then we'll prescribe them their own medicine. Messing with their hair tonics to ruin their hair, shortening the lengths of their robes, give them a bout of acne to wrestle with..." Everly trailed off, wondering what in Merlin's beard she was saying. She was quickly coming to regret the babbling that had taken hold of her in the face of no other options. Prefects should ensure the happiness of the student's but they shouldn't...

It struck her then that what she'd just offered to do wasn't far off from the bullying she presumed Riddle did.

The idea, however, sparked interest. "Really? You'll help me with all that? I have to admit, I'm pants at magic... It's why they started teasing me in the beginning, then they realized I'm Muggle-born and, well, you can assume what happened next! Oh, it's been  _awful_."

"Actually, we shouldn't do all that. We should be better than they are—"

"Better than they are!? That's no help at all! The point is, they're  _already_  better than me! Prettier, smarter, better clothed..."

"Well," Everly began, searching her mind for solutions, "I can perhaps help you with some of what they're teasing you about. With a transfiguration, I can fix your clothes, or give you my old ones if they're a better fit. I can help you with your hair—it's something of a hobby of mine—and perhaps I can figure something else out about your glasses."

"That'd be nice..." she mumbled, sounding a bit hesitant.

"Will you come out now? I only want to help."

"Well, if you're so sure about it," the girl said in a choked voice, propping the door open and exposing a reddened puffy face half obscured by glasses that were fogged by the heat of shed tears. Her clothes did look as threadbare and secondhand as she had lamented, and even the tie, showing Ravenclaw colors, looked a bit stained and the colors faded.

"I can work with this," she said, taking out her wand.

At the first look of Everly, the girl let loose a sharp gasp. "You're Everly Greengrass!"

"And you are?"

"Myrtle," she said, still stunned. "Myrtle Warren."

"Well, Miss Warren, let's see what the two of us can do about those glasses of yours," Everly said conversationally as she placed a hand to Myrtle's shoulder and guided her to the bathroom sink and mirrors. "Your hair color is such a lovely shade, though I suppose the style doesn't quite suit the shape of your face. Your forehead is quite nice, a fringe will only make you look... frumpy. Luckily, I have a hair tonic that can help grow it out... Hm, brows are bit thick, but with a little cleaning we can make them quite a feature... How old are you?"

"Thirteen," she said, looking baffled as Everly assessed her.

"How do you feel about makeup?"

"Oh, it can be quite nice, but I could never afford—"

"Nevermind that for now then," Everly said, and used her wand to transfigure enough details about Myrtle's clothes that they looked decidedly neater and the correct size. She fixed her shoes too. The stains on the tie were gone and the colors taking on a pigmented look that made everything look almost new. "Oh, I hope I don't mess this up," she said under her breath before transfiguring the glasses to be smaller and hoping she didn't ruin the prescription.

Myrtle blinked rapidly for a moment and then peered at Everly before looking down at herself. She gave a pleased gasp, twirled around, looked in the mirror, and grinned. "This is brilliant! Fifth years really are something else..."

"Are the glasses fine?"

"I think I can see better than I did before!"

Everly sighed in relief. "Excellent. Well, now all that's left is hair, and I think I know the perfect cut. Let's head to my room, shall we?"

Myrtle nodded eagerly. "Oh, Miss Greengrass, thank you so much! You're the kindest person I think I've ever met!"

Everly shifted, feeling a bit uncomfortable by this. "I really hope they don't tease you after this. If they do, please let me know. I can't bear to think that such awful things are happening in my own house."

"I'll tell you," Myrtle said, smiling, lifting her hands to her face to feel the pull of her cheeks. She seemed more surprised by this than even Everly, who thought she had a rather lovely smile. "I've been so miserable, I think this is the first time I've been happy in the last month!"

Everly didn't know what compelled her to, but she gave Myrtle a hug, feeling awful that she'd been so unaware that the bullying had been happening in the first place. She'd probably been too distracted thinking about Tom Riddle to see it happening right before her eyes.

"I'll do my very best to ensure the rest of the year is a lot more enjoyable," she vowed, giving her wet cheek a kiss before pulling away. "Now, let's see if I'm really as good at cutting hair as I think I am."

Myrtle's dark brown eyes glimmered with unshed tears. "Thank you," she said.

**.**

**.**

Everly's Monday classes were History of Magic, Potions, Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Arithmancy. After that, there came the first tutoring session of the year and she was  _not_  looking forward to it.

Normally, it was the best time of the year for her, the thing she looked forward to most.

She felt there was no better feeling than helping someone understand something they never believed they could understand. She liked teaching, more than anything else in the whole world. It called to her, the desire to explain and help others go beyond what they had expected they could do. She liked seeing students gain confidence in themselves and loved to see them begin to catch on to what made learning easier for them, what let them go independent from her.

It was a bittersweet feeling, helping someone grow and then knowing they'd be fine without her, but she enjoyed it immensely.

Everly was rethinking why she'd let Tom Riddle join. She'd wanted another helping hand, she'd been concerned about being unable to be as helpful, with her own studies to look after in the fifth year rush. But she could have asked literally anyone else—as Alphard so kindly put it—and yet she'd inexplicably trusted Riddle to even do a good job!

Oh, she felt stupid. She hadn't even tested if he had the patience, the tolerance, the diligence! What if he ruined the chances of a student seeing the greatness in themselves? What if he lowered the success rate she'd so lovingly put in all that effort and time? Ah! What if he set his  _goons_  on them?

"What was I thinking?" Everly asked, petting Paper as his green cat eyes stared back at her. He was purring quite happily, oblivious to the matter concerning her most. She scratched at his neck and she wondered, not for the first time, if he'd been a housecat before he was out on the streets.

She was due in the library in fifteen minutes but she didn't want to leave her room. She quite liked being with her cat; he couldn't expect anything beyond food and petting out of her. It was rather stress relieving.

But alas, she'd scheduled the time herself and had posted the meeting dates on the cork boards outside of all the common rooms for everyone to see. She'd been experiencing weeks of questions from students surrounding her club and admittance into it. She'd been approaching teachers for suitable names to add to the list, had been planning since her first day back to Hogwarts.

They'd all be expecting her.

With a sigh, Everly gave Paper one last pet and made to descend from Ravenclaw Tower and down to the first floor where the library was located. She got there with a minute to spare and wasn't surprised to see many had already arrived, greeting her with smiles and eager looks. Her eyes first shot to the huge hulking figure of a second year boy named Rubeus Hagrid, if she could recall correctly, and then to the others. Alphard gave her a wave before resuming in a hushed conversation with Erebus, who looked disinterested as his gaze remained glued to Riddle.

Riddle, for his part, gave her a grin she was certain would have sent LilyAnn into a faint.

Madam Cromwell looked to her with a smile. "That room you've requested has been opened up for you and your class, Miss Greengrass. Follow me, I'll show you the way."

"Oh, thank you!" Everly said, and waving the others to follow her, the lot of them followed the aging brunette past the main section of the library and entered into the restricted section before going beyond and coming to a stone door that had been kept ajar with a door stopper.

"Will this do?" Madam Cromwell asked as Everly took a step into the room, which looked at first glance to be storage room for decrepit, junked books. Upon closer inspection she found that an area had been cleared, presumably with house-elf assistance, and a table with chairs took up room in the middle.

"It's excellent," Everly said, setting her books down onto the table and watching the others follow suit.

"I expect you to keep this lot out of the books, please. They're old and need to be copied before we get rid of them for good," Madam Cromwell explained, and cut a steely gaze at the group that had sat themselves down one after the other.

"I will," Everly said, slightly amused.

With that, she was left leader to a ragtag bunch, the most notable one being Rubeus Hagrid who struggled to sit himself down.

"Let me help," she said, and transfigured the chair into something much sturdier and wider for his frame to fill. He looked to her with awe and gratitude before sitting himself down.

"Thank ye," he said, grinning merrily at her then around the room.

"Rubeus Hagrid?" she asked, just to be sure. She'd heard he was big, but didn't think he would be  _this_  big. Everly had a short vision of him being able to lift her over his head like she was a measly sack of potatoes. At a hundred and sixty five centimeters, he outmatched her a shocking amount, even for a boy. She couldn't quite believe he was a  _second_  year. A year below Myrtle Warren.

"'Hat's my name," he said, beaming. "It was Professor Dumbledore 'hat tol' me all 'bout the club. Said ye would help me raise my grades to As!"

Everly felt a thrill of pleasure to know her favorite professor had been recommending her club and immediately felt much happier than she had been going in. Not even seeing Riddle dampened her mood.

"First things first then," Everly said, taking her seat beside Alphard and her brother and turning to her open notebook. "Raise your hands when I call a subject if it's a class you are currently failing."

She marked down the names as hands went up, finishing with the room quickly before saying, "Tom Riddle will be tutoring for the following subjects; Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, and Potions. Alphard Black will be handling Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology, and Arithmancy. I will be covering the remaining; Divination, Transfigurations, Astronomy, and History of Magic. Any questions?"

Hagrid lifted his hand hesitantly.

"Yes?"

"What if I'm failing more than one class?"

Everly glanced down at her notes and found he was failing every class but two; Transfigurations and Care of Magical Creatures. She met his gaze and gave him a small smile. "Simply come to the student in charge of the class with your concerns about the assignment your working on at any given time. It'll be up to you to track your homework, though I'm willing to proofread and help edit before submission with assignments you feel the least confident with."

She hoped that last bit would subvert any failings on Riddle's part.

"We'll be meeting twice a week in this room, Monday and Thursday," she continued, addressing the room with this. "I hope this year the club is as helpful to everyone as it was last year. If I didn't believe in you, I wouldn't have admitted you to join, so have faith in that and allow yourself to ask as many questions as you need to understand something. Now without further ado, let's pull out our homework assignments and begin."

**chapter three - end**

 


	4. Act One: It Girl

_**Act One** _

**It Girl**

_30th October, 1942_

Everly felt like any second now she would drop from sheer exhaustion. She didn't know what she had been  _thinking_  when she'd offered to help Myrtle Warren with her hair. Now it seemed every girl was in need of assistance, crowding her for questions and following her in the halls as if they didn't have classes to attend. Everly had made the mistake in succumbing to their pleas. She'd made the choice to give lessons on makeup and hair after dinner for an hour before bed on the weekends, thinking it wouldn't make such a difference to her schedule.

She was wrong. Wrong. Wrong.  _Wrong_.

Alongside her schedule filled with six classes a day, she had hours of time consuming assignments to do and turn in, she had the twice-a-week tutoring lessons to think about, the ever increasing papers to help edit and correct, and was somehow more popular among her peers than she ever had been before. Walking down the halls, she parted crowds in what was becoming an increasingly embarrassing daily occurrence, and could expect young girls fighting for the chance to sit next to her at lunch.

It was  _maddening_.

"Where did you learn all of this?" Cindy Macmillan asked, following Everly's directions while sat on a pillow on the floor. A group of girls were in similar positions in her bedroom, handheld mirrors out as they applied their makeup. Mascara trays and brushes littered the floor, as well as tubes of lipstick and packs of eyeshadow.

Everly was too embarrassed to say that she picked up most everything from muggle magazines, that since she was twelve, most of her summers away from school had been spent messing around with different eyeshadows and lipsticks and blush or inside boutique shops in search of the perfect foundation. Her hobby in styling hair had come from the itch to do something that wasn't reading all the time, and she found she rather enjoyed the creative outlet.

She never before thought she would become the school's personal advice column because of it though.

"Oh, you know," Everly said breezily and dismissively, "experimentation."

It had the opposite of the desired effect; they all seemed to think she was a genius and ohh'd and ahh'd in awe of her. What was worse was the gazes they looked at her with, similar to the sycophantic gazes Riddle's followers always wore. He seemed to enjoy it, but Everly felt more... on the verge of a mental breakdown.

How anyone could enjoy being looked at in such a way, she couldn't fathom. It made her feel sick, nervous and unbearably self-conscious. With everyone looking at her, that mask of regal perfection she imitated was put to the ultimate test and she knew without anyone saying it that she was a role model to these young girls and that her actions mattered more than they perhaps ever had.

As if to cement this, the teachers had been noting to her that this year she had made learning into a fashion statement, and that it had never been so popular before to be intelligent.

"It's as if Rowena Ravenclaw herself has returned," Professor Slughorn had said just last week at one of his dinners. She'd nearly run out of the room to sob at the undeserved sentiments, but had stayed steadfast, giving a blank smile to appease those watching.

Everly had a difficult time putting her feelings to words. She had never been very good at allowing herself to talk freely, and more than ever, felt too crowded and gawked at to try fumbling out complaints to her closest friends. Alphard seemed to understand her desire for privacy the most, but he didn't think it was an awful thing to be liked. Not that she did either, but there was such a thing as those too obsessive to go beyond simply liking her alright.

She had nice features, but she wasn't  _stunning_. She made good grades, but that was from a great deal of time spent studying. She was nice, but only because she had no reason not to be. And more than that, she was  _not_  the second coming of Rowena Ravenclaw. She was  _not_  as incredibly awe-inspiring as they were all saying. She was  _not_  a shoo-in for Head Girl—and she was definitely, most assuredly, not  _happy_  about any of this!

More than anything, Everly was mortified by the attention, terrified by all the praise she never seemed able to escape from. It had leaked into her dreams, and she spent restless nights wishing for it all to end, that she would wake up and find her life back to the way it was.

Every morning she woke up with nothing changed.

She did get one wish fulfilled however. Everly was no longer thinking about Tom Riddle or her little  _issue_  anymore. In fact, she was so consumed with everyone else coming in and out of her life, that she had no time to think about being a Seer or whatever it was that Riddle was up to.

That is, until something quite unexpected happened that unfortunately answered her hope for change.

_31st October, 1942_

It was Saturday, the day of the Halloween Feast, and the eve of the first Hogsmeade visit of the year. It would perhaps the most anticipated weekend of the year, circumstances that had everyone much livelier and noisier than Everly was in the mood to entertain. Not even floating pumpkins filled with sweets, flying bats, water snakes, goblets of colored candy, or orange streamers could lighten her spirits.

Everly, watching the giggling first years and the chatting fourth years, was miserable.

She longed to eat quickly and take her headache and herself up to her room, scrub her face, dress in her comfiest nightgown, and lay down beside Paper and pet him until falling into a deep dreamless sleep. It was not to be.

It was in the height of merriment, just before the ghosts were set to perform for the school, the doors to the Great Hall burst open and there, standing with a face as pale as the moon, was Gilbert Brady.

"It's LilyAnn, I think she's dead!" he cried, and began to sob.

Some, perhaps not believing him or assuming it to be part of the evening's festivities, began to laugh. The laughter died upon the reaction of Professor Dippet, who cut the music with a wave of his hand and silenced everyone along with it. His festive robes glimmering under the candle lighting, he stood and rushed to meet Brady.

"Where?" he asked.

Everly went to stand, her stomach dropping as she gazed around the room for her roommate and friend. She hadn't even realized LilyAnn wasn't there, she'd assumed she'd been off talking with the Slytherins as she had been for the past week. Glancing over at their table, she realized that not only did she not see LilyAnn—she didn't see Riddle there either.

Leaving her table, Everly rushed to follow the professors and the stream of curious students that followed after Professor Dippet, led by a blubbering Brady. It only took a minute to reach where the Muggle-born girl lay like a stone, hand still clutching her compact mirror, brown eyes wide and unseeing. Everly felt the blood rush from her face, and she swayed on the spot.

It did not feel real yet.

Several students began to scream and harried professors began to send them away, trying to get all of them to leave but to no avail.

"She's not dead, not yet," Professor Dippet said, turning to Professor Beery, the Herbology professor, "we'll need Mandrakes to cure her. She's been petrified."

Murmurs broke out across the gathered lot.

"What could have  _petrified_  her?" Alphard asked in a whisper, coming to stand beside Everly.

She shook her head, not knowing, her gaze still scanning the grouped students for Riddle's familiar face. He wasn't there and something about that  _bothered_  her. It sunk her heart to the pit of her gut, and rushed the blood from her face. Everly swayed, clutched her head and groaned, horrified by the flashes of images and scenes impeding themselves in her skull.

"Are you alright?" Alphard asked, steadying her with a hand at her back.

She regretted opening her mouth the second she did, finding herself speaking in a voice she didn't know she was capable of, that she was terrified of and  _controlled_  by.

Her voice was not her own as she said, " _Enemies of the heir of Slytherin beware, for his control of a beast is rather unfair. One good look will leave you deceased, your chances of living becoming decreased. Let not your eyes meet it's stare, and there might be hope for your repair. It's maker was smart, left us all in the dark, his secrets had vanished in air. But not for good, no, never for good, as the hidden heir understood. He can win, he can lose, the question is pending, we're far from the ending, what matters is what he will choose. For that's not the worst of it, no, that's not the last of him, his name will be something to fear. But with a bit of good luck to help you to duck and avoid the furthest despair, with the aid of mighty Gryffindor and Godric's hallowed sword, we shall end this whole affair._ "

At the last word, she regained control of her body, slumped forward and leaned heavily into Alphard as he propped her up with both arms. She could see people looking at her though it hadn't yet sunk in what had just happened, too stunned to process anything for a moment.

And then the whispering began.

"Did she just speak prophecy?" "That's Everly Greengrass, guess on top of everything else, she's a Seer too." "Think she's pretending for attention?" "Once again, it's Gryffindor against Slytherin—why am I not surprised?" "LilyAnn's a Muggle-born. Think that's what makes her an enemy to the heir?" "What kind of beast do you think it is?"

"Silence!" Professor Dippet said and she heard the hush befall the gathered crowd. He came to meet her face to face, scrutinizing her. "What was that?" he asked in a low voice.

"I don't—I don't," Everly stammered, seeing all around her the faces of those who now knew what she had been trying to keep a secret.

It was the nail in the coffin, the last straw, the push that took her over the edge. Her exhaustion and stress had finally caught up to her. She began to cry—to  _sob_ , really, and only by turning into Alphard's chest with great embarrassment did she stand the hope of hiding her face from the curious onlookers. She kept thinking about LilyAnn, kept seeing the look on her face and her hands, limp at her side and yet still holding the compact mirror.

Behind closed lids, it only got worse. It all felt to her as if she'd seen all of this before, and the very thought of that lingered with her. Was this it? Proof that she was really a Seer? Everly felt for a moment that she'd just been given a death sentence.

"I'm taking her to her room," Alphard said with a hint of defiance in his tone before turning the both of them around, waving people aside and leading her away.

He got her as far as the spiralling staircase in Ravenclaw Tower before turning to her, hands on her shoulders and looking at her with worried eyes. "This is the first time I've ever seen you cry, Ev," he said, a shake in his voice. "What happened back there? Are you truly a Seer?"

Everly nodded, miserable and afraid to speak.

"That was..." he trailed off, at a loss for words.

They stared at each other.

"That's never happened before," she whispered after a long moment. "Usually I can fight it, see only bits and pieces of a vision. I've never, you know, spoken  _prophecy_." It still didn't feel real that she'd done that. More, it felt as if that had been someone else entirely. Or a dream. A nightmare, she corrected, thinking about the awfulness that had happened to LilyAnn.

"Have any idea of who the heir of Slytherin could be?" he asked.

She blinked, and for a moment didn't have anything to say. She was still working through her shock, working slowly through her thoughts surrounding the prophecy. Dread began to fill her as her brain moved sluggishly.

Everly knew who she  _wanted_  to say, but hesitated first, only giving in when Alphard continued to stare expectantly at her. She sighed. "Tom Riddle. He speaks Parseltongue, and... if we're talking about the heir of Slytherin literally, well, who knows, he might just be a descendant of Salazar Slytherin." She wondered if her mind only went there because she didn't like him. "I didn't see him at the feast," she added, that uncomfortable knot in her stomach squeezing.

"Just when I didn't think he could get any worse," Alphard muttered, watching her wipe at her eyes with the ends of her robe's sleeve. Her makeup was all smeared.

"I think the beast in the prophecy is referring to a basilisk," Everly said, connections in her brain spurning others. "They can live up to a thousand years  _and_  as they're really just large, incredibly venomous snakes, can be controlled through Parseltongue. Moreover, they kill with their gaze, but the effects, if seen through something like a reflection, can petrify instead. LilyAnn was carrying her compact mirror—"

"But where did it go? How was it able traveling through the castle with no one seeing it?"

She frowned. "I don't know..."

"I don't ask because I disagree, in fact, I think you're onto something. But if we know how it's traveling, we can prevent further attack from happening."

"Assuming there will be further attacks," she murmured, brows tightly furrowed. "The prophecy said he had a choice."

Alphard didn't appear too hopeful about that. "Of course he has a choice. We all choose whether or not to be utter arseholes and he chose to let out the beast and attack LilyAnn."

"Well, this doesn't change what we already knew before. We have to find proof," she said with urgency. "We can't just accuse him in front of Professor Dippet, even if our theory makes sense."

"Definitely not in front of Professor Dippet," Alphard agreed grimly. "But that's enough for the day. You look exhausted—how did I never notice these bags of yours!?"

"It's makeup," she said, and upon saying the word, tears welled up in her eyes.

"Oh, oh, Ev, what's wrong now?"

"I'm  _tired_ ," she cried and heard herself mounting into hysterics. "Those girls never leave me alone! I liked it at first but now it's everyday, and they took my hobby away from me when it's the only one I had. I mean, I like teaching, you know that, but I wanted one thing separate from all of that. Something I found fun and enjoyable away from all the books and assignments... that never end! Oh, Al, this year has been awful! First I can't stop thinking about that Riddle boy, and then I start waking up with fits brought on by visions, and on top of that, I have ten classes with never ceasing workloads, and then, the last feather on a swaying stack, the tutoring club! I've had to fix fifteen essays just last week, and by fix, I mean rewrite everything!"

Alphard said nothing, though understanding was clearly laid out in his face. He reached up to wipe at her cheeks before wrapping her in a gentle hug. "Tomorrow is the Hogsmeade visit, and I promise you, it'll be just us. A day for best friends and butterbeer only."

"Alright," she said weakly, wondering what horrors would greet her the next day. She wasn't very optimistic.

Everyone would know by then. They'd know what she was.

**.**

**.**

Everly felt the stares on her back like a second-skin everywhere she went that morning. From the moment she woke up, to the table at breakfast, all the way to lining up for the visit to Hogsmeade where Professor Merrythought checked the student's parent permissions.

It was snowing already, but lightly. Soon there would be heavy snows, and Everly was looking forward to them. She was always happier in the winter. Summers were oppressive and awful, whereas fall and winter gave her the freedom to politely decline venturing outdoors. Not to mention that some of her happiest memories had been made with the backdrop of a snowy landscape and a familiar chill nipping at her skin.

Everly adjusted her scarf to cover the lower half of her face, making her way carefully to Alphard. He greeted her with a tired smile—she hadn't been the only one not to get any sleep. They shuffled up the line.

"Did you sleep well?" Alphard asked, though it sounded sarcastic.

"Don't bore me with nonsense," she said in a slow voice. "Not today."

"Blimey." His lips twisted into an amused grin at her tone. "Did you not eat enough at breakfast?"

"Not with everyone looking at me," she mumbled. "Sorry for being short with you."

"We'll just have to get you something to eat at Hogsmeade," he said as they moved up in the line.

By the time they reached Professor Merrythought, she was giving them both a beaming smile.

"Oh, dear! Miss Greengrass, excellently done on last week's assignment. Inspiring as always," she said, reaching up to pinch Everly's cheeks.

"And what about me?" Alphard asked, indignant.

"Well, Mister Black, you'll find I rarely have a bad word for your turn-ins either," she said with bright sparkling eyes. "Rarely is a student so blatant with his sense of humor, most would be too afraid of the punishment." She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, "I rather look forward to getting them. Keep up the great work you two!"

"I knew it—she loves me," Alphard said with a proud tilt to his head as the both of them followed after the other students that had been cleared to go.

"You have a D in that class, don't you?"

He wrinkled his nose. "It's a P, thank you very much, and I'll get it to an A, don't you worry."

"I still don't understand why you don't apply yourself equally in all your classes," she said with a delicate sniff.

"Oh, Ev, not everyone can be like you."

"Well, it's not a matter of being like me. It's a matter of you being as incredibly intelligent as you are incredibly  _lazy_  about anything that doesn't involve your interests!"

Alphard gasped. "You think I'm ' _incredibly intelligent_ '? That's not too far from a genius! I'm  _flattered_ , truly, I am."

Everly snorted. "Regardless, as long as you continue to be irresponsible, you won't be getting very far—"

"It won't matter," Alphard said dismissively. "My father is loaded."

"You've been spoiled," she said in disgust.

"And you haven't been? You should know as well as I do that money will never be a concern of ours, unless its having too much," he retorted and to her silence, raised a brow. "Shall we spend a few Galleons at Honeydukes? It stimulates the economy, you know."

Everly nodded, suddenly struck by a thought that held her interest. It wasn't until they'd made it to High Street of Hogsmeade, watching all the students and villagers crowd in and around the buildings, that she thought to say anything.

"What sort of life do you think an orphan lives in our society?" Everly asked, accepting Alphard's elbow as the two of them stepped around a pair of third years gawking at Honeydukes.

"I have no idea. I know there's stipends for the costs to attend Hogwarts, for their books and such, but I don't know much else."

"Do you think there's many families that adopt them?" she asked as the two of them stepped into the sweets shop.

"I've never heard of Tom Riddle having a family," Alphard said, a whisper in her ear.

"Where does he go for holiday?" she asked back, tugging him towards a barrel where she could spot Fizzing Whizzbees.

"No one knows," he muttered, looking at the shelf behind her for Pepper Imps.

"Really?" That stunned her for a moment. "Perhaps he keeps it a secret for only his close friends."

"Which is something he doesn't have, Ev. Didn't I tell you already? They're his  _followers_."

"How are you so certain about that? People are always mistaking our relationship for being different than what it is—maybe he's closer to them than we realize."

"Maybe," Alphard said, unconvinced. "But that still raises the question; why is he keeping his home a secret?"

"He must be ashamed of it," she murmured, turning to the barrel with Every Flavor Beans and picking out a box. "He might view it as a place beneath him, if it's something like an orphanage. Do we have one of those for our kind?"

Alphard didn't answer. He looked at her instead with an indiscernible expression that he held for as long as it took him to inch close enough to whisper. "I bet he lives with muggles," he said and pulled back with his arms crossed, confident.

"A muggle orphanage?" Everly asked, horrified. "But... he'd have grown up not knowing what he is, and the  _muggles_ , they wouldn't have known either!"

Unlike her father, Everly didn't have very strong opinions on muggles, neither loving nor hating them. Normally, she didn't think too much about them, finding only their fashion and music to be points of interests. Despite this, the little she was firm on was that  _muggles were not to be trusted_. Especially not with a child awakening to magical abilities!

"Well, the Ministry wouldn't have known about him until his magic surfaced," he pointed out.

"Should have taken him in immediately upon finding out," she grumbled, striding to where the shelves carrying rows upon rows of chocolates were. She loaded up on her favorites.

"Maybe they did, we're only making guesses," he reminded her.

"That's true. We'd have to ask him to be certain," she said, softening in her reactive anger. "How receptive do you think he'd be to being bluntly asked?"

"He'd slip out of any question he doesn't want to answer," Alphard said in thought before blinking at her. "Why are you so curious about him anyway? You seem almost... defensive of him."

Everly felt her face screw up as if she'd just sucked a lemon. "I'm not defending him. I just believe that... understanding him a little more will help, that's all."

"What do you want to know next? His birthday? His middle name? Whether or not he prefers his potatoes mashed or cubed?" His tone was too facetious to take seriously, but she didn't let that stop her.

"What  _is_  his middle name?" Everly asked, intrigued.

Alphard scoffed. "Really? You're obsessed, Ev. I feel sorry for you."

Everly calmly shifted her boxes of chocolate to her other arm and reached up slowly, tricking him into a false sense of security before snatching his earlobe and dragging him down to hiss in his ear, "If we know his middle name, we'd know his full name, and that'll make it all the easier to find out who his family is.  _And_ , confirm his identity as the heir of Slytherin."

" _Ow!_ " he whined, yanking his head back and rubbing at his ear with a scowl. "You're mean today."

"You see my point, don't you?"

"I suppose," he said with a sigh. "But it won't be easy. I don't think anyone knows his middle name either."

Everly grinned, unperturbed. "Student records should."

"Mean, but fun," Alphard said, a sneer breaking out onto his face. "Very fun."

"Let's pay and go out to Three Broomsticks to get butterbeers," she said, feeling her spirits lighten knowing she had a plan now. No sulking now that she had something to do.

**.**

**.**

Half an hour later, Everly had a butterbeer in hand and was lamenting the loss of that fraction of happiness she had gained from her talks with Alphard. It was short lived and had died the moment Aileua stepped in, Gilbert Brady trailing after her. The moment she spotted her, she'd made a beeline, not even stopping to order drinks.

"It's awful," Aileua said, collapsing in the chair beside Everly's. "I thought for sure they'd cancel this trip, with what happened last night."

"There'd have been riots if they tried," Alphard said, taking a swig of his drink.

"They should have more respect," Brady said, his eyes red-rimmed and face puffy. "It's not right what happened to LilyAnn, and for everyone to be acting like it didn't happen, don't they know what danger we're in? Everly spoke prophecy! People could die!"

"We actually might be safer here than we are at Hogwarts," Everly said, speaking without thinking too hard.

Aileua's face went gray and Brady went speechless.

"That's true," Alphard said merrily.

"The professors will take care of everything," Everly said, trying to be soothing. "The school couldn't remain open if every student's safety wasn't their first priority."

"Easy for you to say," Brady muttered. "The three of you will be fine! You're all pureblooded, while I'm... I'm a  _half-blood_." He seemed embarrassed to admit it out loud, practically fit to burst. His eyes welled up with tears.

"Oh, Gilly, it'll be fine. I'll protect you," Aileua said, her voice softening and sweetening.

Alphard and Everly met eyes, raising their brows.

"Gilly?" Alphard echoed. "So, the two of you are...?"

"Childhood friends. He lives three doors down from me," Aileua said, looking serene.

Brady, for his part, looked crestfallen.

Everly might have had something to say, if it weren't for spotting Tom Riddle coming through the doors, followed by the laughing faces of his lackeys—friends?—as if he'd just made the funniest joke of their lives. Like Aileua, he spotted Everly immediately and also like Aileua, he bypassed ordering drinks to approach her.

"Miss Greengrass," he said, his mouth screwed into a sneer. "Can I ask a favor of you?"

"A favor?" she echoed, skeptical.

"Would you give me a moment of your time? Alone?" he asked, holding out his hand.

She nearly answered no. She was very tempted to, seeing that confident smirk of his being mimicked by his friends that crowded behind him. She didn't look to see what her friends thought of it before setting down her Honeydukes bag and butterbeer. Everly stood, ignoring his proffered hand and stepping around him to head for the door.

She didn't check to see if he was following her until she was already out and heading into the alley between the Three Broomsticks Inn and the next building over. He trailed after her, looking bored if anything at all, that charming smile of his nowhere to be seen.

"What do you want?" she asked, crossing her arms over her middle.

Riddle appeared rather more relaxed, which did nothing to set her at ease.

"There are new rumors about you today," he said.

"About you too," she said, feigning a yawn.

"Me?" This seemed to catch him by surprise. He looked a cross between nervous and delighted. "What about?"

"You've heard about the prophecy I made last night, haven't you?"

"So, it's true then? You're a Seer?"

"As surely as you are a Parselmouth," she responded, and leaned in a bit to meet his gaze. "Say, do you think that makes me special? My abilities suggest that much, wouldn't you agree?"

"You'd be the envy of any girl," he said, seeming caught for a lack of words in the face of her change of attitude. "About the prophecy—"

"But you, do  _you_  envy me?"

"I don't envy anyone," he snapped, and sounded harried as he repeated, "About the prophecy—"

"It was an interesting one."

"—what did it say exactly?"

"Oh, I can't remember it word for word," she lied, knowing the lines had swam in her head from dusk til dawn and still sat there, fresh.

"Was it really about the," he paused, seemed to consider his words before saying, "you-know-who?"

She laughed, taken off guard by the absurdity of the phrase. "You-know-who?"

"The  _heir_ ," he said, glowering at her, "of Slytherin."

"And why are you so interested?"

"He stands as a threat to student's safety. I figured you would be happy I'm performing my duty as a prefect in trying to get to the bottom of things," he said, as if it should have been obvious.

"Professors are taking care of things."

He raised a brow at her. "And more on the case wouldn't make a difference in how quickly we get answers?"

"Well, about that rumor of you," she said, placing a hand to her hip, "I've heard people think  _you_ are the heir. I'm sure you can see why I might not want to trust you."

For a moment, he said nothing, and they stood, watching each other in silence. He seemed to be studying her, watching her for a lie. She thought maybe there was traces of anger in his gaze, but before she could be sure, he began to laugh.

"I can't be the heir," he said confidently and with a smirk.

"And why is that?" she asked calmly.

"The heir of Slytherin would be after mud—Muggle-borns and half-bloods, right? That girl last night, friend of yours isn't she? She was a Muggle-born, and it's not as if any heir of Slytherin would go after his own. The purebloods, I mean."

"Are you getting at something here?"

"Why, yes, I am. Miss Greengrass—may I call you Everly?—Everly, I can't be the heir, because no heir of Slytherin would be a... a Muggle-born like me."

"Muggle-born?" Everly echoed, feeling for the first time with him, surprised. "You're a  _Muggle-born_?"

"It's true. I don't like talking about it," he said, sounding deeply grieved. "You know how my house is about such things. I've kept the matter private—haven't even told my best mates. No one knows but the school staff and now... you."

She was suspicious instantly. Why would he tell  _her,_  of all people?

"Where do you go for holiday?" she asked, intending to use the opportunity to answer other pressing questions.

His expression contorted for a fraction of a second before he released a heavy sigh. "You're aware I'm an orphan, aren't you?" At her nod, he sighed again. "Just don't tell anyone, alright? Do you promise?"

"Yes," she said, confused by the turn things had taken.

"I go to a muggle run orphanage in London. Wool's."

Everly felt sick at the thought—it didn't matter who he was, the thought that any wizard or witch could find themselves at such a place was  _horrid_.

"Oh, that's  _awful_ ," she whispered, disconcerted that she was feeling something completely new with him; pity. "You've been there your entire life?" she asked, just to be sure.

It took him a moment to respond. Riddle didn't seem too sure how to take her reaction. He looked uneasy as he said, "Since the day I was born."

"What about your magic, when it was coming in? How did the muggles react? Not good, I assume. How long was it before your letter came?"

"It wasn't a letter that came for me," he said, but gave no further details.

"A professor?" Any one of them could have gone, and though it was ultimately irrelevant, she still wondered.

"You won't be telling anyone, right?"

Everly hesitated but knew that a promise was a promise. "I won't. My word is good."

"Like everything else about you," he muttered.

Everly paid him no mind. "I suppose you being a Muggle-born parselmouth just goes further to prove that pureblood mania is without a doubt the stupidest idea in the Wizarding world."

Riddle blinked. "You think so? Your brother would disagree."

"My brother is an idiot who's only good grade is in Potions."

"And your father?"

"He's a coward who takes any chance available to him to think he's superior to someone. Comes with being the head of a department in the Ministry, and it isn't helped by the fact that he's a narcissist."

"You don't like your father?"

"I love him," she said with a half-smile.

"And your mother? What does she have to say about purebloods and Muggle-borns?"

"I never knew her opinion. She died giving birth to Erebus when I was four."

He hesitated. "I'm... sorry to hear that."

"No, you aren't."

"And how do you know that?"

"Riddle—"

"Call me Tom."

"—Tom, if you were truly sorry to know about my dead mother, I would see it in your eyes and I don't."

Riddle stared at her in silence before playing for an insincere smile. "You seem to fancy looking too closely at my face. Want to confess something while we're still in private, Everly?"

"I understand you, more than you realize," she snapped, not wanting to humor his flirtations and angry with him that he would still try. "It's alright, Tom. I'd imagine it's difficult to mourn someone else's loss when you've yet to understand how to grieve your own."

Anger sparked through his eyes. "What are you insinuating?"

"I'd imagine that as an orphan, never knowing your parents must have weighed on you, understanding there was something you lacked that others had. I can't, however, imagine that you'd know what to do with those feelings. And from where I stand, it appears you still don't."

"You sincerely don't like me," he said, seeming to realize this for the first time. He looked surprised by this fact. Riddle shook his head, heaving an exasperated sigh. "That's all irrelevant. We're talking about the heir, not your psychoanalysis of me being an orphan."

"Have you ever been so consumed in thoughts about someone else that you see them in your dreams? That from the moment you wake up, they're on your mind? That the last thought you have for the day is of them? That you can't even go an hour before they return to your thoughts? Alphard called me obsessed and I keep trying to think that he's wrong."

"Saying this, I'm assuming you're thinking of... me?"

"Yes! Against my will! It's  _horrid!_ "

His face scrunched up and his shoulders stiffened. "You wound and confuse me."

"Good!" she cried, and strode past him, intending to leave the alley, embarrassed that she admitted to the full truth of his affect on her. On her own, no less, with no prodding on his part.

"Wait!" he called after her. "Tell me the prophecy!"

"Leave me and my head alone, Riddle!"

"I'm not doing anything to it!"

"I don't believe you!"

At that, he began to laugh. "Everly, you're much more of an idiot than people give you credit for!"

She didn't respond to that, heading back in to the Three Broomsticks Inn and heading straight for Alphard, fuming. "We're leaving now," she said, picking up her Honeydukes goods and half-full butterbeer.

Behind her, Tom was still laughing, much too hard for him to explain why to his inquiring friends.

"What happened?" Alphard asked, standing up, followed by Aileua and Brady who both seemed curious to know too.

"Not now," Everly said stiffly, trying to think instead on her plan of getting in to see the student records. She had no reason to believe what he'd said about being Muggle-born to be the truth, and if she could just see his full name and whatever else the professors had to say about him, she'd be one step closer to confirming his identity as the heir of Slytherin.

**chapter four - end**


	5. Act One: Heir of Slytherin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes i forget to update archive................,,,,,, sorry for the slow updates!!! i have up to chapter eight finished, so i'll try and them all up throughout the week and next.

_**Act One** _

**Heir of Slytherin**

_16th November, 1942_

"Ever!" Erebus hissed and waved her forward, attempting to be discreet by ducking between a potted plant and the portrait of a pair of laughing men. He ultimately failed, catching the eyes of everyone within a few meters of her. His face reddened, his gold curls looking bright in the hall lighting as he swallowed deeply.

He'd always been rather shy about having attention on him.

Everly waved off Aileua, who'd been walking with her to their next class, and couldn't keep the smile off her face as she approached her brother.

"You called?"

"Yes," he said, looking back at the onlookers warily before whispering, "After classes can you meet me in the library?"

She nodded, bemused by his behavior. "Can I have a hint what this is about first?"

He glared at her then, his bottle green eyes burning vividly. She blinked, and struggled a bit not to laugh in his face. He always got so tetchy with her before opening up, putting up a shield as if daring her to not take him seriously. He was a lot like their father, being so defensive before one can even get a word in. Everly found it rather endearing most times.

Most times.

"Well, what is it then?"

He opened his mouth, and shut it just as quickly. With a groan, he shook his head and strengthened the bite of his glare. "I'm late for class. I'll see you in the library!"

"Bring your books with you! We can study after we've talked!" she called to him as he took off like a bullet. "And no running in the halls!"

He slowed to a walk so fast, he nearly tripped, and upon righting himself, stooped his head down, neck reddening. His back looked so small as the crowd of students swallowed the sight of him whole and Everly felt a pang of sadness. She had yet to get used to seeing him in Hogwarts, even months in, and had mixed feelings knowing he was going to be growing up here and she'd only catch glimpses of it, of what he wanted to share.

She really hoped he made it onto the Quidditch team in his second year, though it was too early for that just yet. Everly hadn't really seen her brother on a broom, now that she thought about it. She knew it was a hobby of his since their father had taken him out to play on his fourth birthday, and she knew that it was something the two of them did often.

It was the truth that Erebus was the baby of the family; their father doted on him in ways he'd never allowed himself to do for Everly. It had been a good surprise to everyone, actually. She knew her grandmother, in stories retold years later, had been beside herself in relief, having feared that Erebus would be a hated child. Those fears only lasted up until the moment that Julen Noctis Greengrass held his son for the first time.

"The last good thing Elena ever did," her father still said at every birthday of his son, his only acknowledgement that it was the anniversary of his wife's death.

Everly had mixed feelings on the way things had become, and the chances of her discussing it with anyone were zero. These were such matters that she hadn't even told Alphard, though she was certain he suspected there was something wrong.

She loved her father and brother, truly. Very much.

It was simply that... she felt neglected, overlooked, and alone. It explained why she much preferred living at Hogwarts, the place where she'd always felt apart of something, something wonderful and warm. She'd never needed very many friends to feel this, and certainly, she kept herself busy looking after her classmates. The last four years had held some of her best times, making this year stand out in stark contrast, something that stressed her to no end.

Sometimes she desperately wished her mother was still alive—she'd been thinking this a lot lately.

By the time classes were over for the day, Everly was exhausted. It didn't matter that it was Monday and the weekend had allowed her at least one good night of rest. She was as popular as ever, even more so with her status as a Seer revealed. Just two weeks ago it had been only girls pestering her for her attention, and now curious boys had entered into the mix, wanting their fortunes read and to hear her speak prophecy. She'd been asked out a few times, by brave third and fourth years and overconfident sixth and seventh years.

The latter were a group of bloody gits, if you asked her. She usually ignored those sort, especially if they were looking for something more than a girlfriend. Or, really, less than a girlfriend. She hadn't known what to make of it all, baffled by the sudden attention. That is, up until she learned someone had been spreading the rumor around that she was  _easy_... as well as other things...

She genuinely had no idea who it could be.

Everly cursed and slowed her pace as she headed to the library. It had only just struck her to think that Erebus might have heard those moronic rumors and might've believed them. Her cheeks got hot, her embarrassment growing as she realized how explicit those rumors had been.

They said she liked to... to...

She shook her head, trying to swallow her discomfort and temper her fury. They said she liked to—

No  _way_. No way! She would  _never_.

Her initial reaction had been to cry when Alphard had told her what all the boys were saying behind her back. She'd only just barely held back the tears in that instance. She couldn't imagine Erebus knowing too!

Oh, Merlin's beard, this year felt as if the pieces of her life couldn't fall apart fast enough. Something new and awful was happening each week, it felt like.

Everly saw her brother at the entrance, smiling as he talked to Vanessa Travers, a fifth year brunette with happy cornflower blue eyes. Erebus looked up as she approached, and his expression tightened, his eyes narrowing. He instantly shut his mouth into a grim line.

Vanessa turned, rosy red lips pulled into a smile. "Ever, how nice to see you!"

Everly tried not to frown at the nickname. "Yes, quite nice."

"Your brother was just telling me he was waiting for you. It's so amazing that the two of you are close. My brother seems to hate me." She laughed. The sound was soft and delicate, too much so to sound natural.

"He needs all the help he can get with his studying," Everly said, lifting her books for emphasis.

"Really? I've heard he's a dab hand at Potions." Vanessa looked surprised with a put upon expression. She smiled at Erebus regally. "I've heard Tom praise you for it. He says you have so much potential with us."

Everly had the disorienting realization that the way Vanessa was behaving might just be how  _she_  could come across. Playing at being high society and important.

"Really?" Erebus's eyes bulged. "But I thought he was mad—"

"Oh, no, sweetheart. He was only temporarily put out because," Vanessa glanced at Everly and away, "well, nevermind the whys. You should sit with us at dinner tonight, sugar. Everyone will be so happy we have our favorite first year back."

"I'll be there!" Erebus said, that dark expression he had earlier slipping away entirely in the face of his joy.

Everly was watching this entire conversation unfold in mute horror. She'd known her little brother was charmed by Tom Riddle, but not to  _this_  extent! Oh, oh, what could she  _possibly_  do? She couldn't control him, or his fancies. She'd never been the type of sister to hand hold him; she let him make his own mistakes, and that had always worked just fine. Especially when those mistakes were simple, like spilling tea or break his toys.

But this was... this was...

Everly stood there, silent in her shock as Vanessa gave her parting words and Erebus waved her goodbye. For the first time in a long while, Everly wished she was in Slytherin. Maybe if she was there, she could have done something other than just watch.

When Erebus turned to face her, the happiness there began to leak away and he jerked his chin towards the library. They headed in and she found them seats in a obstructed part of the library, where few bothered to tread. He looked miserable now, sitting across from her, just as much as she felt.

"What's wrong?" Everly asked, her anxiety speaking for her.

"The prophecy," he said, surprising her, "can you tell me it?"

Her guard was instantly up. "Why should I? Did Riddle put you up to this?"

Erebus's cheeks reddened and he sunk into his chair. "No," he mumbled, an obvious lie.

She raised a brow. "Then why the interest?"

"I'm just curious. Dad said you might be a Seer but it was still a surprise when everyone started talking about the prophecy you made. I thought he was joking around!"

Everly sat there in stunned silence.

"What?" Erebus asked, concern filling his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Father knew?"

"Yeah. He said it comes from Mum's side of family, that Mum always thought one of us would be a Seer because of how it skips a few generations."

"Oh," she remarked, still wondering how she had never known this until now.

"Will you tell me the prophecy,  _please_?" Erebus leaned forward and attempted the puppy dog stare he had perfected to an art.

"Don't look at me like that!" she begged.

"Please, please,  _pleeeeease!_ "

"I don't want to."

"Ever,  _please?_ "

"No."

"Please? And thank you?"

"I said no."

"Please? _Please?_ " he begged, eyes wide and desperate.

"I said no!" she snapped.

His glare was mutinous. "If you don't tell me, I'll tell Dad what you've been doing with boys!"

Everly slammed her fist onto the table, and Erebus looked ill, as if he was already regretting speaking those words out loud. "Those are all lies and you know it!" she cried, and for extra emphasis, hit her fist against the table again for good measure.

"How should I know!?"

"You're my brother!"

" _So_?"

Everly's eyes filled with tears.

Oh, Merlin,  _no_. She wasn't about to start crying in front of  _Erebus_. She stood, ignoring his protests, and lifted her books to shield the view of her face before rushing out from behind the bookshelves, and couldn't get out of there fast enough.

Despite having warned Erebus not to earlier, she ran in the hall and headed to the second floor. She couldn't go to her room, Aileua would be there and she'd ask questions and Everly really needed some place quiet.

Where do girls go to cry in Hogwarts?

She could think of only one place; the very bathroom she'd met Myrtle in.

Everly entered, vision blurred by the tears seeping from her eyes. She rushed herself into a stall, set the toilet seat down, set her books on it, and sat, pulling up her legs to meet her chin. She didn't want anyone to hear or see a glimpse of her here, not even of her feet.

She was always a quiet crier, had been since the time it was important to hide her misery. Everly didn't actually understand people that were noisy, she didn't understand how anyone would want to sound so pitiful. Weren't they ever ashamed for it? Everly felt that way. It felt like she'd failed somehow, in being strong.

She'd always built up her self-image like that, picturing herself as if she were her mother. Resolute, firm, calm, and anything but weak. That's how Elena Greengrass always looked in the pictures Everly had, smiling serenely as she held her daughters.

Thinking about her mum, it somehow made her cry even more, making her glad for the black robes that were uniform. There would be no evidence of the tears that were dripping and seeping into her sleeves. If she fixed her makeup right in time for dinner, no one would be the wiser that anything had been wrong.

She used toilet paper to rub at her eyes, attempting to dry them—until she realized she'd forgotten the muggle advice to  _pat_  instead of rub. Now everything had to be smeared. That somehow made her cry more, knowing she looked and felt like a fool as her misery kept pouring out of her She had to blow her nose too, it was leaking.

 _Merlin_ , she hated crying. It was messy business.

It was a few minutes more until she began to feel better and she could be more level-headed. She was refusing to think about the nasty rumors about her though—it would only make her tears come back.

Everly sighed, and set her feet down onto the floor, getting ready to leave. She opened the stall door, books in hand.

It was right then that she heard footsteps. Everly froze, and watched as an eager looking Tom Riddle came into view.

Everly frowned at the sight. There was something wrong about it that her brain was refusing to process. Her thoughts stuttered. She stared at him, realizing he had yet to see her—it hit her then what was so wrong with what she was seeing.

What, in Merlin's beard, was  _he_  doing in the girl's bathroom?

"Riddle," she called, her voice sounding nasally. She watched, somewhat amused, as he jumped. He tried to play it off, turning at once to face her. At the sight of her, he did a double-take.

"Everly," he said breezily, as if this was perfectly normal.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, and suddenly, it was as if the fury of the last two weeks had finally caught up to her and had found the perfect target. And, in fact, it had.

 _He'd_  been the one to turn her brother against her in the search of that stupid prophecy, and wouldn't it be so perfect if he'd set someone up to spread those rumors about her in retaliation for not telling him the prophecy herself? She could think of no one else being able to, or wanting to.

"I heard someone crying, so I came to check if I could help," Riddle said, feigning a look of concern. It did nothing but incense her further against him.

"You're bad at lying, you stupid git!"

"Why else would I be here then?" he asked, rather calmly, despite how passionately she'd called him a git. And stupid.

That stumped her for a moment. Why else  _would_  he be here? She was certain it wasn't for the reason he gave—she'd been careful about who could hear her—but what other option was there? Did he want to use this bathroom but was now too embarrassed to admit it?

It was in situations like this that she wished she could use legilimens, just for a hint to help her out.

When she could say nothing, Riddle sighed and took a step forward, edging her further back into the stall.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a snap in his voice that had her blinking in surprise. He himself looked a bit surprised.

Had she just seen a glimpse of what was underneath that stupid mask of his?

"Nothing," she said, the crack in her voice giving her away.

"Doesn't look like nothing," he said, shifting his feet with impatience and waving his hand in the direction of her face.

She straightened her spine, somehow not wanting to hide her misery in front of him. What did it matter if he knew she was upset? She was under no impression that he actually cared and bizarrely enough, that had the odd effect of making it easier on her to talk. After all, she had no reason to look after her image in front of him.

That must have been the greatest reason that made her say, "It's the rumors about me."

Understanding lit his face and a gleam found his eyes. He looked like he was trying not to smile. "I presume they aren't true."

"Of course not!" she snapped, her cheeks getting hot. "I mean, I would  _never_ —the things they say I do—it's just not  _right_."

"What, anal?"

She was throwing her books before she could think of what to say, one after the other, her eyes burning with tears again. Riddle caught each one, his reflexes being surprisingly quick. His laughter seemed on the cusp of being released, suspended for the moment and making her dread the chance of hearing it again.

"Everly, it's not that bad—"

"Not the bad? Not that bad!? My brother heard! Oh, and apparently you set him on me to get the prophecy? Well, too  _bloody_  bad, I'm not breathing a word of that to anyone. Should have been there to hear it the first time, but you were too busy trying to kill one of my best friends!"

"Excuse me? I've done no such thing—"

"Oh, please,  _spare_  me. I know about the basilisk!" she snapped, stepping forward to jab him in the chest. "Controlling it with Parseltongue, aren't you? I've no idea how it travels, I'll give you that, but the moment I find out, you better believe that I'm telling Professor Dippet!"

Riddle slammed her books onto the floor, the sharp crack of it echoing in the bathroom as he leaned in, towering over her now—had he grown since the start of the year?—and  _glowering_. She'd never seen him so angry before, working his angular jaw. His skin was so pale, especially in the harsh illumination, that he looked like a ghost, one come to destroy her.

She stumbled back, reaching for her wand when he snatched her wrist. It hurt, the amount of pressure he was using. Defiantly, she glared.

"And just how do you think I've managed to bring a basilisk to Hogwarts?" he asked, his voice cold. It cut into her like ice.

Her voice shook as she said, "You didn't. Salazar Slytherin must have left one to be discovered by his heir."

"And here I thought we've discussed this," he said softly, reaching a hand up to clasp her shoulder. "Haven't I already told you that I can't possibly be the heir?"

"I already told you," Everly muttered, wrenching her wrist from his hold, "you're bad at lying, you stupid git."

"And why, for the love of Helga Hufflepuff, are you so insistent on not trusting me?" he asked, and if possible, sounded genuinely desperate to know. "Why do you never believe me? I've never given you any reason to doubt me. Haven't I been there to help when you need it with the club? Haven't I been nothing but kind, charming to you, even as you've done nothing but respond coldly?"

"I'm a Seer, Riddle," she whispered, and finally, finally whispered the truth, what had most been weighing on her mind, keeping her awake, making her certain of who the heir was. "I'm a Seer, and when I dream, I see you there, surrounded in chaos and darkness, and doing  _things_ , such awful things. I wake up in pain, struggling to breathe and keep what I've just witnessed from my thoughts. I pretend sometimes that it couldn't be you, but I know in my gut, in such moments, what you'll become."

"What?" he whispered, sounding somehow awed by her confession. "What will I become?"

Everly shook her head, could only ask, "Why?"

" _Why_? Why what?"

She looked at him, really looked at him. His face was actually rather nice, wasn't it? Nice dark brown eyes, styled black hair, tall frame. He wore his robes well. Without the sneer or feigned smile she was accustomed to seeing there, she might actually fancy his face at least. Even his personality might not be all that bad, if she could see what the real one actually was.

"You lose everything and die, a man reduced to nothing, not even his soul," she said finally, warning him, wanting to see him do better, be better. The prophecy said so, hadn't it? He still had a choice to make. They were still living history.

Everly bent to get her books, and went to the sink, turning on the faucet to wash her face.

"You're the one lying now," he muttered, his face contorting in disbelief. "How could I—I would never end up... like that."

"Of course you don't  _have_  to," she said, shifting her tone into a breezy one as she ran a paper towel over her wet skin. "But do I think you won't?" She paused, looked him over and tossed her wad into the bin. "Not as you are, no. You're on the right path to end up a very unhappy man."

With that, she took her books and left.

She didn't think to stay until he left too.

**.**

**.**

Jacob Jenkins, a second year Gryffindor, was the second petrification victim. It had been the screams of his friends that had alerted everyone else on their way down to the Great Hall for dinner. The effect was to send a herd of students rushing to see the body, and chaos took hold as whispers carried messages from one end to the other.

Everly never did see the body, being a late arrival—her makeup had taken a lot longer to reapply than she'd expected—but she caught the news only minutes after the discovery of his body. Dread filled her, and the feeling didn't come by itself. The ride along disappointment that filled her made her realize that in a weird way, she'd had some faith in Tom Riddle.

It was a mistake she was going to have to learn from.

"Ev," Alphard said, materializing by her side as she watched the disoriented students react badly to the professor's attempts to calm everyone.

"Hello there," she said, relief filling her to see him. Alphard would be able to find a way to make her laugh despite everything, it was what he was best at.

"We should do it now," he whispered.

Confusion took its hold over her. "Do what now?"

"The records," he whispered, nodding his head over at Professor Dippet, who was making his way through the crowd, with great emphasis.

" _Now_?" she asked, utterly amazed.

"When else is a better time?" he retorted impatiently, tugging at her arm.

She followed, a bit hesitant as she kept glancing back to the direction of where Jacob Jenkins lay. After they were a good distance away from the crowd, Alphard paused.

"Cast the Disillusionment charm on us," he ordered and, still baffled at how take-charge he'd become, Everly did as asked and watched the both of them shift colors to blend in with the scenery. "Come on!"

The both of them ran the rest of the way, reaching the gargoyle in front of the Headmaster's in what felt like a minute.

"You know the password?" Everly asked, gazing at the stone gargoyle with full apprehension, half convinced they'd made the trip for no reason.

" _Crescat scientia vita excolatur_ ," Alphard said, pride in his voice as the door swung open.

Without further ado, they entered the Headmaster's room, an immaculately cleaned place with not a speck of dust in sight. There was things everywhere, but none of it looked like clutter, as if every item had a purpose and reason to be where it was placed. The walls were decorated in portraits, some absent but most looking on in interest.

"Brilliant!" she said, rather pleased for that to have gone so smoothly.

"Check his desk, I'll check these cabinets," Alphard said.

Everly went round the big desk and sat in his chair, checking if the drawers were locked, and whispering, " _Alohomora_ ," when one refused to give. She looked through that one first, but seemed only to find curious objects that might just have been confiscated goods for all she knew. The second drawer didn't give any better results.

Fifteen minutes had passed of them searching, and just as she was feeling the pressure, she struck gold with the third drawer. Thumbing through the folders, her eyes glanced over Alphard's and then her own name—the temptation was there, taunting her as she went through the R names—and with relief, found Tom Riddle's there. How could this be so easy?

"Found it!" she whispered victoriously as she wasted no time in tugging it out and scanning the pages with great interest.

Tom Marvolo Riddle. Born on the 31st of December, raised in Wool's Orphanage. His mother arrived there to give birth and, shortly after, died. Blood Status: Undetermined. Not much else there. Everly tried not to think about how he'd told her the truth about Wool's, it made her feel weird. Almost regretful about the way she'd behaved earlier.

She moved on to the professor's notes and skimmed over enough of them to confirm what she already knew; the teachers loved him. The perfect student, quiet, and calm. Great at making friends. Everly snorted at that.

She'd nearly given up, convinced it would all be the same, when she came across Professor Dumbledore's notes.

_When I came to give him his letter personally, Mrs. Cole, caretaker at Wool's, had very many interesting things to note. In '26, his mother had arrived on the last day of the year, and as Mrs. Cole put it,'she had the baby within an hour. And she was dead in another hour'. Not much is known about her, except perhaps more can be discovered in following the breadcrumbs. One such crumb is the curiousness of Tom Riddle's name. I've been lead to believe he's been named after his father in first and last, whereas he bears his grandfather's as his middle._

"Aha!" Everly sent a silent thank you to her favorite teacher, who had somehow managed to gain even more of her respect.

"Marvolo," Alphard said, reading over her shoulder. "We can go to the library tomorrow, look through some ancestry books, see if we can find someone named that in the last fifty, seventy years."

"I think I already have a guess who it could be—"

The door swung open and in a dazed panic, Everly shoved Riddle's back in place haphazardly, shutting the drawer and seeing a blur as Alphard raced past her. She got up to follow, already envisioning the corporal punishment she'd receive if she were caught.

Rumors would be the least of her problems then, too; her perfect record would be ruined! Oh, why had she thought this had been a good idea?

"Not so fast you two," Albus Dumbledore himself said, stopping Alphard in place just as the Disillusionment charm broke, revealing the both of them with equally panic stricken looks.

"We're—" Everly began, her mind racing for any excuse that could somehow get her out of trouble. She wasn't seeing any and desperation was choking her. Damn, damn, damn!

Professor Dumbledore raised both brows. "Did you find what you needed?"

"Why, yes, yes we did," Alphard said, jutting his chin out defiantly. "If you could believe it, we're solving a riddle and have just found the missing piece."

"Al!" Everly groaned.

"Oh," Professor Dumbledore chortled, peering into Alphard's eyes, "I can believe it."

"I'm so sorry!" Everly said. "We were desperate for answers, we don't usually... break rules."

"Not all the time, anyway," Alphard said with a bark of laughter. How he could look so calm despite the monumental amount of trouble they were facing—

"How would the two of you feel about serving detention with me? Three consecutive Saturdays in the library, copying old books into new ones, and we keep this little transgression just between the three of us."

"You drive a hard bargain, but deal," Alphard said while Everly was too stunned into silence to say much.

"You—thank you—I can't—you're  _wonderful_!"

Professor Dumbledore smiled at her warmly and with flushed cheeks, Everly vowed she'd never let her father speak badly about him ever again.

"Why don't we get ourselves back down to the dinner hall? They're serving roast beef tonight, I believe."

"Excellent," exclaimed Alphard as he turned to lead the way.

"How is... Jacob Jenkins?" Everly asked as they departed, wondering if she could have prevented it from happening if she'd just been a little nicer to Tom Riddle, if she hadn't left him on such a sour note.

"He's fairing as well as your friend, LilyAnn. The mandrakes have still yet to mature enough to use, it'll be a while yet before we can administer the cure but we're hopeful it can happen before spring."

Everly asked the question that had been horrifying her the most about the predicament LilyAnn had been put in, "What will LilyAnn be allowed to do with her exams?"

Professor Dumbledore looked almost amused by this. "She'll be allowed to take them if she chooses this year, or she can take them in her sixth year. I'd imagine she'll find that club of yours quite helpful if she means to keep up with her peers."

"Oh," Everly remarked, feeling nervous now for LilyAnn.

"She'll be fine," Alphard said with a pep in his step. "She's smart."

Everly couldn't help but chuckle at that—LilyAnn might have fainted to hear him say that to her face. The laughter didn't last long, however; she kept thinking about Tom Marvolo Riddle and the mystery and suspicion that surrounded him. Who his parents were, she didn't know. What she should even feel for him, she had no idea. What did he even think of her? Did he hate her? Did she hate him? Why had he sounded so desperate for her to believe him?

Could she be insane enough that all this was just in her head and he was somehow innocent? Was it that hard to believe that he could be?

She had no idea.

All she did know was that she had to find out what he was doing in the girl's bathroom.

**.**

**.**

Which was exactly why she found herself where she was at the very next day, fresh off a double Transfigurations class.

"What are you dragging me in here for?" Alphard asked, a disgusted sneer on his face as he looked around the bathroom Everly had shoved him into.

"Because I didn't get to tell you last night," she murmured, already beginning her search for answers as she crouched, eyes sweeping across the sinks.

"Didn't tell me what?"

"I was in here yesterday and, wouldn't you know it, Tom Riddle came in, looking eager about something. We got into a bit of a row—you know how I get—and... and I told him I already knew about the basilisk, that I just didn't know how it could be traveling, and he got  _angry_. Seriously angry!"

Alphard's eyes bugged. "Everly, why would you tell him we know about the basilisk!? That's the opposite of a good idea!"

Everly turned away from him, feeling squeamish. "Well, I don't know. I was just so  _mad_  and I wanted to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. He said those rumors about me weren't a big deal! As if he'd know what it feels like—what if the professors hear them? My life would be ruined!"

"Oh, Ev, I'd probably have done the same." Alphard sighed and then got onto his hands and knees beside her, sympathy in his gaze as he asked, "What do you think we're looking for though?"

"I don't know," she muttered, and looked carefully at the floor for anything strange. "What business would  _he_  have in here? It's just a bathroom, yet he looked like he did that time he went off to explore, like he couldn't wait to... to do  _something_. Al, what do you think?"

"Hm," Alphard paused and sat back on his heels, palming his chin. He narrowed his eyes after a moment and stood, turning himself around the room before finally meeting Everly's impatient look. "We're talking about the heir of Slytherin here, right? Well, there's always been these  _rumors_  about him—"

Everly groaned. "I'm  _sick_  of rumors!"

"—that might make a lot of sense with that prophecy you made."

At that, she sighed but waved her hand for him to continue.

"You've heard of the Chamber of Secrets, haven't you?" he asked, raising his brows.

She gasped, amazed. " _That_  old tale?" Everly hadn't even thought of it since she'd first heard of it in her first year. It was one of those stories that upperclassmen—particularly the purebloods—usually told as a way to tease the half-bloods and Muggle-borns. But now that she considered it, she felt like smacking her head at the obviousness of it.

"I don't know how the Ravenclaws tell it, but in Slytherin there's always been the suspicion that the chamber hadn't been destroyed when the plumbing got updated in the 1700s, but had simply moved the entrance to it, and the one rumored to discover and continue Salazar's work—in other words, ridding the school of you-know-whats—would be his heir."

"His  _heir_? Why didn't we think of this earlier?" Everly asked, gobsmacked at how perfectly it all fit.

"Well, I did, but thought it best not to get ahead of myself when you were so gung-ho already about confirming Riddle's identity as a long lost descendant of Slytherin."

"Which I'm  _certain_  now that he is," Everly said, reminded of what she'd grabbed from the library during lunch. She reached into her pocket and unfolded the piece of newspaper, pointing to the headline:  _Marvolo Gaunt Facing Six Months in Azkaban._  "The Gaunt family is the last known descending line of Salazar, and—"

"Of course! Corvinus Gaunt! He was rumored to be the last person to open the chamber. I bet he was the one to move the entrance too, so no one but a select few could find it."

"And  _I_  bet the entrance was moved here, where no one could possibly guess it was in the girl's lavatory."

"How do you figure it opens up?" Alphard asked, looking the walls up and down.

"Parseltongue, of course. The defining trait of Salazar."

"I suppose that leaves us locked out."

They both went quiet, stepping closer to the sinks to inspect every inch of them for anything out of the regular.

Then, quietly, Alphard said, "I think I might have a guess as to how the basilisk is traveling."

"How?"

He knelt by the sink and pointed to the pipe up underneath it. "How else but these?"

"Pipes?  _Pipes_?" Everly reeled from the number of revelations they'd unearthed in what felt like only a few minutes. "That's  _right_. The reconstruction of Hogwarts in the 1700s brought new plumbing! I bet they're everywhere in the castle! Oh, this is horrid—we have to tell the professors!"

"We can't, not yet," Alphard cautioned. "None of them would believe us without the proper evidence. The only proof we have is an old newspaper clipping and a prophecy."

"Then what else do we do?"

"Catch him in the act, of course," he said, as if it was a simple matter. And maybe it was. How hard could it be to catch him opening a hidden chamber before another student could be made a victim?

"We'll have to follow him everywhere," she muttered, not looking forward to this at all. "How will I do that without coming off suspicious?"

Alphard snickered, amused. "Maybe have an open change of heart about him? Erebus will be pleased you've switched sides."

"Oh no, that couldn't possibly happen. I've made my distaste for him perfectly clear. He'll be even  _more_  suspicious than if I was just watching him."

He shrugged. "Have fun with the rumors that you're a stalker then."

Somehow, that calmed her. "I can't think of any worse rumors than the ones that are currently being discussed about me anyway."

Alphard's face fell. "I'm sorry. I've been trying to find out who started them."

"At this point, I'm willing to just blame it on Riddle," she muttered.

"I would be more surprised if it wasn't him, at this point," Alphard agreed before straightening his back, patting at his robes. "Right, well, this has been wonderful, but I must get going. As illuminating as my time has been here, I don't want anyone witnessing my presence. People misinterpret our relationship enough already without any fodder."

Everly rolled her eyes. "See you at dinner, Al."

**chapter five - end**


	6. Act One: Rumor Mill

_**Act One** _

**Rumor Mill**

_17th November, 1942_

The next week was one of the worst Everly had ever endured while at Hogwarts.

"That girl, Everly Greengrass, was it? She's so  _anal_ -retentive." "That's true, she's so  _anal_  about everything." "Notice how she always uses the back door?" Then laughter. So much laughter. It haunted her dreams, followed her in the hallways, and had certainly reached the professor's ears. The look of disappointment, of disbelief, and concern were common when she was called to answer questions and turn in assignments.

She was being watched by everyone and the worst part of it? She couldn't even hide—there was no such thing as privacy at Hogwarts. She was half convinced Professor Dippet might send a letter home regarding the rumors, and she shrunk into herself at the thought of her father hearing about this. Whoever it was spreading rumors, she might even consider the Dark Arts to get back at them, if it got  _that_  bad.

It made her burn with anger but it wasn't easy to find an outlet for her stress. Despite everything, Everly was still doing her best at her prefect and club duties, working hard on her studies as well as being the go-to girl for advice on all things makeup, hair, and tutoring. Not even Tom Riddle could get in the way of those things. They were too important to her.

That isn't to say she had as much time to those things as she would have liked, not with her effectively stalking him everywhere he went.

Alphard spent much more time at it than she did, given that he was a Slytherin, but the result was the same no matter who was watching him. Tom Riddle wasn't making any move to release the basilisk these days and didn't seem to be doing anything else but study, tutor students during club hours, and act as the social butterfly the professors all remarked him to be—all while ignoring her with a sneer she fantasized herself smacking off.

One other thing did change though, and it was very difficult not to notice; all of Slytherin, with the exception of a few, made their hate for her ridiculously clear in the following days and, as if she didn't already have enough, in joined other sorts of rumors about her.

"She's pretending to be a Seer for attention. That prophecy she made? Obviously faked!" "My great-great gran is a Seer and she's  _never_  acted like that before." "That Ever girl is a liar, everyone knows it. Plus, I'm certain she cheats. How else can she get such good grades?"

And as if it wasn't the cherry on top, Erebus had been completely and totally turned against her. It was obvious in his expression, the way he looked down his nose at her even if he was still too short, that sneer she'd always said made him look constipated in full view every time she met his gaze in the halls—and she'd been meeting his eyes quite a lot.

"He's tailing you. Think he's a spy?" Alphard proposed in discussion about her little brother's odd behavior in the last few days. They were in Astronomy, the sounds of Professor McGillicuddy attempting to calm the class filling the air around them as per usual. It, at least, did a good job of muffling their conversations.

"This year has been a whole load of bollocks," she muttered, not really wanting to get into it about whether or not her brother was keeping an eye on her to report for Tom Riddle. "I hate him, you know."

Alphard's jaw dropped. "Your brother?"

"Oh, of course not! I'll always love that idiot even when he's being a total prat," she said, feeling a little hopeless as she looked through her telescope, and trying not to think of the fact that  _he_  was only a few meters away. "I meant you-know-who. I wasn't sure what it is I should feel about him, but now I'm certain that I hate him."

"Glad we're on the same page about that."

Everly turned to look at him, curiosity burning. "Are you sure he never did anything to do you?"

"To me? Oh, no. It was always other people..." Alphard trailed off, marked something on his paper and then turned his face up. "You want me to explain what he did, don't you?"

"Yes," she said firmly, crossing her arms.

He sighed. "Where to fucking begin—"

" _Language_."

Alphard scoffed and shook his head, sneering. "At the fucking beginning then. First year," he continued, ignoring her glare, "he was an alright bloke, for a bit. Got along with everyone, was really curious about the way everyone else lived. Used to ask me a ton of questions about being a pureblood, what it meant to be born that way, the like. That's when he started to surround himself with people that were  _only_  pureblooded.

"I'd say that was around the point he started changing the most—started getting on with a group of third years, big, nasty, and complete gits. Riddle was smart enough to take advantage of them. Started giving them deals; if he helped them avoid punishment, they would only bully  _his_  targets. Turns out Riddle is as slippery as an eel when it comes to getting out of things. Could always, sometimes just barely, get them off scot free.

"Then, as the years progressed, his group just kept getting bigger, kept swallowing up the people who wanted to serve him and so did the amount his group wanted to target. I think he uses memory charms on his victims," Alphard said quietly. "Lots of times you can wake up with bruises and have no idea how they got there, maybe find all of your essays have gone missing at a critical time, or find yourself at the wrong end of a hex or jinx and have to visit Madam Appleby—but that's if you're lucky though."

"If you're not?"

Alphard met her gaze and very cooly said, "Then I don't think you could ever forget what he does to you."

Everly was quiet for a moment, taking that in, waiting for the unease, the shock, to settle. Finally, she had to ask, "You know his victims?"

"I doubt many of them know that they're victims, but yes, because..." Alphard stopped and he suddenly chose that moment to look away. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. His sneer deflated.

"Because?" Everly prompted, leaning in to put a hand to his forearm in concern.

"Well, you know what I was like before we became friends, don't you?" he asked, almost desperate.

"A totally obnoxious prat," she said without thinking, and then stopped to. "Oh," she exhaled as understanding filled her. She frowned. " _Oh_."

"I really regret it, Ev," he said, pained sincerity in his voice. "I stopped in third year, after we became friends."

"You were friends with Riddle once then?" she asked, unable to control her curiosity.

"I told you already, Ev, how many times now?"

"Right, right. He doesn't make friends," she said. "Got it."

"Honestly, I understand where your brother is at right now, trying to impress the most influential member of our house. I used to be the same. That's how Slytherin's make all their connections anyway, and it doesn't take a genius to see that Riddle will be making  _something_  of himself. Probably explains why he has so many idiots following him actually," he mused.

She studied him for a moment, saw the nervousness underneath his flippant facade.

"I'm glad you're  _my_  friend," Everly said breaking into his rambling before he could go too far. "I feel really lucky to have you, Al. All of this would be... a whole lot worse without you."

"Sounds like you're about to propose to me," he joked weakly, seeming taken aback by her sudden shift in attitude. Everly wasn't very often sweet if she could help it—made her stomach ache, to be honest.

"I'm only proposing we'll best friends till the day we die," she said, holding out her pinky.

"Ahh, the child's version of an Unbreakable Vow," he noted, joining his pinky with hers. He grinned at her. "Deal."

_21th November, 1942_

Their first detention with Professor Dumbledore didn't feel too much like a punishment and Everly didn't quite know how to feel about that. He brought treats and the chairs they sat in were plush and comfortable. The most awful part about it was how sore her hand got after a while, copying the old books onto new pages.

But she was learning all kinds of interesting things because of it. Not just because of the books, but because Professor Dumbledore seemed fond of chatting while they worked, and he had an awful lot of memories attached to these old books. Apparently they'd been in the ownership of Hogwarts for nearly three hundred years, and his class was the last to get some use out of them.

"Very nice penmanship, Miss Greengrass," Professor Dumbledore noted, and smiled. "You put a great deal of effort into perfecting your abilities."

"Yes," she agreed. "Can't seem to help myself from it."

"She's completely barmy about it, if you ask me," Alphard chimed in, dipping his quill back into the inkwell.

"Well, no one asked you," she retorted, but playfully.

"Have you ever considered becoming an Animagus?"

The question startled Everly so badly, she knocked her fist into the goblet at her side, spilling the cider inside onto the pages she'd just finished copying. Groaning, she thought quickly and performed a drying charm, instantly dismayed to see the paper discolored and wrinkled.

"Allow me," Professor Dumbledore said, and performed a series of charms that returned the paper as it had been before the disaster she'd inflicted on it. "Didn't mean to alarm you, Miss Greengrass."

"Oh, it's no issue," she mumbled, face red and suddenly feeling her palms slick with sweat. "To answer your question though, I've considered it but always thought the process of it too difficult to achieve."

Alphard snorted. "If I were to place my bets on anyone I know succeeding on becoming an Animagus, it would be you. Although, that's not to say I support it, Ev. You need to leave some achievements to the rest of us, what with you being top student  _and_  a Seer. It's just not fair otherwise."

To this, Everly frowned. "Being a Seer isn't much of an achievement. It's not like I can help it."

"Well, you never know. If you worked hard enough at it, then you could control it, I think."

"I've heard of the possibility, but that comes after  _years_  and  _years_  of purposely seeking out prophecies, and prophecies aren't just things to make willy nilly. They're  _serious_ , and dangerous too, if the wrong person hears it."

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat, stealing her attention back, and flushed when she discovered he was looking at her, bemused. "I have a feeling, Miss Greengrass, that you could accomplish anything you set your mind to."

And at that, Everly went mute, the heat in her face making her swallow thickly.

Maybe she really should consider becoming an Animagus.

_28th November, 1942_

Oh, but it'd be so needlessly dangerous, wouldn't it?

Most Animagi were Animagus to show off, or at least that's what her father always said.

The consequences of failing were grave; many attempts were met with becoming something not altogether human anymore. Bit like chimera, actually, but lifespans were drastically shortened. One could become a frog entirely but with human eyes, or into a bird with human fingers. The most horrific had been the tragic circumstance of a witch becoming an elephant, with the exception of her legs and head—she'd opted to be euthanized rather than live out the rest of her days in that form.

So, was it really showing off, if they would risk such a fate for themselves?

The process of becoming an Animagus was arduous, and long. Requiring practice, patience, skill, and a great deal of luck, one became an Animagus by holding mandrake leaf in their mouth for the entirety of a month, using that leaf into the creation of the potion, before reciting the incantation ' _Amato Animo Animato Animagus_ ' on a daily basis before drinking the potion during a lightning storm.

Did Everly think she could do it? Perhaps.

But what was the point really?

Everly kept returning to her thoughts about the matter through the week, and as soon as she arrived for second detention she had to serve, feeling Professor Dumbledore's knowing gaze on her, she had to ask, "Why did you think I would want to consider becoming an Animagus?"

"Perhaps, because you look a bit like a hummingbird, flitting about every which way throughout the school in your care for others."

At that, her mouth hung open. Slowly, she shut it, took her seat, and said, "How utterly bizarre."

"How so?"

"Because I've dreamt about being a bird since I was seven. A hummingbird."

Professor Dumbledore chuckled in response, his blue eyes twinkling. "You've been having prophetic dreams for that long?"

"I guess I have," came her numb reply.

_5th December, 1942_

"You'll help me, won't you, Professor?" she asked, having thought so long about the Animagus potion that her head was filled with little else. Even the mystery of Tom Riddle had taken a back seat into her consideration of the skill, and despite how busy she continued to be with everyone calling for her attention.

"Of course, Miss Greengrass," he assured her, looking over at her through his half-moon glasses. "Though with your skill in both potions and transfigurations, I'm not sure what I could do for you besides informing you of the weather."

"I'll have to wait for the year to be over before I try," she commented, peering down at the book she was copying and trying to tell if what she was seeing was a 't' or an 'l'. "OWLs are much too important. But then, so are NEWTs," she realized, stymied by the timing of things.

"Maybe wait until you've graduated," Alphard suggested and she hummed in acknowledgment.

"Maybe I'll wait before the wedding," she decided. "If I fail, I won't have too long to live, and then I won't have to marry at all."

Alphard choked on his cider, and shook his head, eyes wide. "That's rather morbid of you."

"It's just a thought," she defended with a frown.

"I don't like to think of the thought of you failing," he grumbled. "Why do you want to do this again? You know this is entirely optional, Ev, not at all like OWLs and NEWTs."

"Maybe that's why I want to do it," Everly breathed, smiling. "No one's making me do it at all. I'm choosing this for myself."

"Can't you just, I don't know, choose a new set of robes? Not attempt an insanely difficult task that may get you killed?"

Her smile turned into a grin at that. "I don't know, Al. I kind of  _like_  the danger of it."

"Oof! That pains my Slytherin heart, Ev, really, it does." Alphard clutched at his chest for dramatic emphasis and she rolled her eyes.

"Don't be so silly. Besides, I think it might be nice to fly."

"There are  _brooms_  for that."

"Why have a broom when you can have  _wings_?"

"You don't even know for certain that you'll be a bird."

"I'm a  _Seer_ , remember?"

"Not a very good one."

"You take that back!"

He dropped his quill and crossed his arms. "No."

"Take it back!"

"Why should I?"

"Because," she said, trying to stave off the giggles.

Alphard's brow shot up. "Because?"

Her nod was firm—and then they both burst into laughter, great big ones that made her belly ache and her voice raise pitches until she forgot what she was even laughing about in the first place.

"Alright, alright," Professor Dumbledore cut in with a few guffaws of his own. "Miss Greengrass, Mister Black, let's get our attention back to work. This  _is_  a detention after all."

"Right," Everly agreed, swallowing her giggles. She was almost a bit sad, actually, realizing this would be her last detention. Most certainly for good, too. It wasn't as if she had any future plans to break school rules.

But it was just as well that she got more rest on Saturdays.

_10th December, 1942_

Break was only two weeks away and Everly wished fervently for the time to go by faster. It almost seemed like a dream, being able to go home and escape everything. Even better, Hogwarts was holding no special events, meaning students were being sent back home for the holidays—meaning that Riddle would have no victims if he were to convince Professor Dippet he could stay.

Which Everly wasn't too convinced he'd be able to. His own fault, actually. No way would the professors let students stay when they had no idea what was causing the petrification attacks. Everly felt a dark sort of satisfaction about this. At least he was perpetuating his own misery, and wouldn't that be funny?

Except she seemed to have ended up the butt of that joke, as not even a full hour after she'd thought that, Erebus pulled her aside in the hall and said in a tone full of pride, "Tom will be staying with us for break. Dad already said he can, so you can't do nothing about it. Bye!"

Everly gaped at his receding form, too dumbfounded to call him out for running.

"Did he just say Tom will be staying at your place?" Aileua asked softly, her eyes wide with interest. She was smiling. "Won't that be fun?"

It took her a moment to respond, still processing the news.

"You can come too, if you're so interested," Everly said glumly.

"Oh, I'd love to, but I can't. My parents are taking me and my brother to Ireland. We'll be searching for the Nivalis Geimhreadh. They're said only to come out in the wintertime, so it's very important we go before all the snow melts!"

Shaking herself of the shock she was still in, Everly found herself smiling a bit at Aileua's excitement. "Owl me if you find it."

"I'll owl you even if we don't," she promised as the two of them entered their Potions class.

Despite having slowed to chatter, they were still early enough to see Professor Slughorn hefting a cauldron which looked to be filled with molten gold, large drops leaping out from the surface like goldfish yet never spilling. He was moving it to the back of the classroom, where it would be out of the way.

"That looks like  _felix felicis_ ," Everly said, unable to help herself.

"Liquid Luck," Aileua agreed as the both of them approached their beaming professor.

"Right the two of you are! Brewed it for my sixth years—one of them might even be  _lucky_  enough to win a vial of it!" He winked as he made the painfully obvious pun and Everly worked on controlling her features from the grimace it wanted to make.

"It's so pretty," Aileua said with a dreamy sigh.

"We'll be learning to make it for N.E.W.T classes, won't we?" Everly asked, rather curious about the potion. Something was niggling at her, stuck in the back of her head but she couldn't be too sure why. Nevertheless, she wondered out loud, "Could I perhaps take a look at the recipe?"

"Why am I not surprised it's  _you_  wanting to take a look at advanced spells before it's even necessary?" Professor Slughorn smiled at her, looking quite pleased as he turned to a pile of books on a desk. He slid a book off the top and handed it over with a laugh. "You might not be able to brew any of these, given the rarity of their ingredients, but I've never been in the business of denying knowledge to a Ravenclaw."

"Thank you," Everly said, cradling the book to her chest as she tried to think hard about what was bugging her so much.

"Now, best we start class, ladies," Professor Slughorn said with a wink.

**.**

**.**

Everly was still unconvinced that Riddle would be joining her family for the holidays by the time dinner rolled around. He could go to anyone else's home if he wanted to avoid the orphanage that badly—so why with her?

Was he that insistent on making her miserable for the entirety of fifth year?

"You look like you swallowed a toad," Gilbert said—they'd finally moved to first name basis—and proceeded to shovel food into his mouth.

"I feel like I've swallowed a toad," she muttered, only playing with her hers, rather uninspired to eat. She spied Alphard across the hall, deep in conversation with one of his other friends, Callistor Rowle and felt a jolt of longing.

As much as she loved Aileua and the several other Ravenclaws she got along with, they weren't who she wanted to talk to most about the prospect of  _him_  coming to ruin her holiday. She also couldn't help but ache for LilyAnn. She had always been Everly's closest friend, second only to Alphard.

"She's upset because she's getting an unexpected visitor for Christmas," Aileua said behind a tinkling laugh.

"Who?" Gilbert asked, wide-eyed.

"Shush! I don't want to hear his name," Everly begged with her hands out for mercy.

"It's you-know-who from Slytherin," Aileua whispered, giggling. "I think fate wants to pull them together! Or maybe it's the sting of an Adfectus Gnat?"

"Can gnats even sting?" Gilbert asked, bothered.

She waved him off and focused on Everly. "Have you found any suspicious red bumps on your skin?"

"No," Everly answered weakly.

She deflated. "Oh."

Everly was about to change the subject, maybe bring up the Potions class, when, before she could even get a word out, her face grew as hot as a frying pan and her eyes grew blinded by tears. She didn't make a sound as she lifted her hands to her face and bowed down, not wanting anyone to see what she was fearing had just been done.

"Who did that!?" Gilbert yelled.

"Maybe it was a Blibbering Humdinger?"

"It wasn't," Everly moaned, feeling the welts now raising up on her skin. "Had to be a hex."

"Who would do something like that?" Aileua asked, sounding alarmed.

Everly shot up out of her seat. "I don't know! I'm going to Madam Appleby to fix this," she said and then rushed off, furious and absolutely  _livid_. As soon as she reached the doors of the Great Hall, she paused—and turned right back around, making a beeline for the Slytherin table.

She ignored the disgusted and curious looks of others—and one look of pure panic coming from Alphard—as she went right up to the person that deserved only her deepest darkest emotions.

"Riddle—outside— _now_ ," she growled.

Riddle, for his part, seemed on the verge of laughing but held it off as he rose with the air of a dignified pureblood, as if he were doing her a  _favor_  by giving into her demands so easily.

Irritated, she snatched him by the sleeve and, ignoring the open-mouthed stares, dragged him out of the Great Hall and into the hallway beyond. She kept walking, not even listening to his questions as she took him to the only place she could think to give them some sort of privacy: the library.

"What happened to your face?" he asked, with what seemed like genuine curiosity as soon as she let go and sat herself down with a huff on one of the more comfier chairs in the reading section.

"As if you don't know," she bit out, still feeling the sting of welts on her skin. "If you didn't do it, I'm certain it was one of your lackeys. Marked open season on me have you?" she asked, glaring at him and feeling weak that it was the only thing she could do.

She wanted to hex him right back, just for being a severe annoyance to her. A Bat Bogey Hex would be a good start, she thought, but couldn't bring herself to do it. It just wasn't the right behavior for a prefect to be pursuing, something she was quietly lamenting as he stared at her.

"I  _don't_  actually know. That's why I asked."

"I don't believe you," she said, just to be difficult.

Riddle tossed up his hands and gave an exaggerated sigh as he sank into a couch just across from her. He didn't bother sitting with any sort of decent propriety, leaving his legs to stretch out onto the low table in between them. He placed his joined hands across his stomach and raised his brows as he uncaringly said, "Well, that appears to be a reoccuring theme with you."

"Are you really coming to stay at my house for the break?" she asked, crossing her legs and sitting as primly as her grandmothers had taught her.

"Erebus offered and I agreed," Riddle said, grinning now at her expense. "He's been quite excited about it actually, even had your father send word to the staff at Wool's. Will be fun, to say the least, spending two weeks at yours."

"But," Everly said, struggling to come to terms with this reality, " _why_? Do you normally spend break at friend's? I thought you always returned to Wool's."

Riddle was quiet for a moment, studying her. Finally, he said, "I do—would be awkward, wouldn't it? Me being a Muggle-born in a den of purebloods. It's a marked difference, you know, socializing with children versus adults. It's a shame but they don't always understand as well as those of our age."

Everly fought not to reveal that she already knew for a fact that he wasn't a bloody Muggle-born and could he please stop faking, and instead settled on asking, with great irritation, "Then why in Merlin's beard have you decided to come to my place!?"

"Why should I answer that?"

She glared.

Riddle gave her a bored stare and gave in after a long silence with a wilted sigh. "Now's as good a time as any to get an in at the Ministry, wouldn't you agree? And what better than the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation?"

She squinted at him, not trusting that for a second. "My father hates Muggle-borns too, you know."

Riddle only smiled at that, as if amused by her.

"He'll throw you right out," she warned him.

"I'm willing to take that risk," he deadpanned.

" _I'll_  throw you right out."

"You wouldn't."

Everly deflated. He was right, she wouldn't.

"Let's agree to get along instead. Wouldn't do for the guest of honor—" She rolled her eyes. "—to be fighting with a resident at every turn. It'll only be right in the spirit of Christmas. Drink and be merry, and all that tripe," he said in a musing tone.

Everly sighed and considered her options. She could maybe write a letter to her father, but what good would that do? She couldn't remember the last time her father had listened to her before about her concerns, so why would this time be any different? Besides, if he'd already given the go ahead, he wasn't likely to change his mind. Not for her.

Oh, Merlin. The future looked bleaker than it already had, and she was supposed to be a damn Seer.

She heaved another great sigh and met his amused gaze, curling her lip. "I'm not getting you a present," she said finally. "But I suppose I'll agree to be civil as long as you remain so yourself."

Riddle inclined his head. "These two weeks should be interesting, wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm only glad you won't be able to release the basilisk while we're away," Everly said, unable to stop herself from reminding him of what a terrible person he was.

He didn't look too amused at first.

"You're a lot like Nostradamus, I think. He was a muggle who thought he could see the future," Riddle said after a beat, chuckling at his own joke. "These theories of yours are a lot like his—complete and utter rubbish."

"Oh, I hope they are," Everly said calmly and then very quickly lost that calm. "Do you think I actually want to believe you'll become a Dark Wizard? We're  _fifteen_ —you're fourteen! It's hard to even believe you're the master of all the school bullies too, let alone you being the one trying to kill students with Salazar's basilisk! I'm only glad you've failed each time, otherwise I'd  _have_  to see you as a murderer!"

It was a strange thing indeed, venting to him of all people  _about_  him.

Riddle didn't take it too well. His reaction wasn't anger, however, it was laughter. Gut busting, shoulder quaking, giddy and out of control laughter that sprung tears to his eyes the longer he kept at it.

"WHAT IS SO FUNNY?" Everly burst out, incensed even further to yell at him.

"You're face! I can't take you seriously with that face!"

"Oh! You are so  _childish_ ," she groaned. "I don't even know why I attempt reasoning with you. It's not as if you care about anyone's opinion but your own."

"Erebus was right—nagging  _is_  the only thing you know how to do," Riddle said, launching into another round of guffaws.

Everly gasped. Her eyes filled with tears at the grim reminder of her brother's betrayal but she blinked them away easily as her resolve turned to steel. "I really do hate you, Tom. Why can't you just  _care_  about someone else beside yourself? Why can't you stop to think about others and do something genuinely nice for a change?  _Why_?"

"Were you a Hatstall between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?" Riddle asked, his eyes flashing. "Because that? That sounds like only what the most idiotic—"

" _Why_ , Tom?" Everly snapped with gritted teeth.

"I'm not a useless Hufflepuff—"

" _Why,_ Tom?"

"I don't—"

" _Why,_ Tom?"

"BECAUSE THAT'S WHO I AM!" Tom roared, getting to his feet. He was breathing hard, chest rising and falling, mouth open and face even paler than usual as he looked at her, horrified. It took a moment for him to school his expression and sit back down, back ramrod straight. "You have no right to criticize me," he said quietly, staring at the floor.

"No one is free from criticism," Everly returned numbly, half convinced she hadn't just witnessed what she did.

"I hate you," he said, his tone ironically void of emotion.

Somehow, it felt nice to hear him admit it. Like a breath of fresh air from the cloying niceties he'd tried to force on her.

"Good," she said. "I prefer to be on equal footing with you."

Tom scoffed. "You are so  _annoying_. How do you live with yourself, being so damn annoying? It's like you never shut up, you always have something to say, and you don't care who hears. Do you really think you're that smart and perfect? Acting like you know everything. Have you noticed the kids in the club prefer me to you? You make them feel stupid—how's that for thinking of what others are bloody feeling."

Her cheeks heated—he was confirming her worst suspicions that she could come off as more annoying than helpful in the lessons she gave. Tom always seemed to hit where he knew it would hurt.

"Well, I agree with you on one thing," Everly said, ignoring his insults primly.

Tom glared. "What?"

"Two weeks with you and me  _will_  be interesting."

His lip curled. "Don't even remind me. I'm loathing the prospect of it even more than I would the thought of Wool's. I didn't even think that was possible."

Everly surprised herself by cracking a grin. "It's your fault, not mine."

Tom rolled his eyes. "Look forward to Christmas, witch," he said, getting up to leave.

"Why?" she asked carefully.

"You'll see. Goodbye now," he said, already turning his back to her and walking away.

Everly didn't quite know what to make of any of that, so she didn't bother with it, thinking instead about who, beside Tom, would want to hex her right where the professors could see. She wondered if they were the same one that had spread those horrid rumors about her, and she wondered if possibly Tom had set them up to do it, whether knowingly or not.

With no evidence or leads, she couldn't conclude anything. But one thing  _was_  certain, and it was the very trend that had swept up her life since the start of fifth year: Tom Riddle was involved.

_24th December, 1942_

When all was said and done, Everly couldn't stop the inevitable and, upon finishing her prefect's duty for the train ride home, she found herself sitting in the most unfortunate of compartments.

Alphard sat next to her, who sat next to Aileua, who sat across from Gilbert, who sat next to Erebus, who sat next to Tom—who sat directly in front of Everly. With others around, he wasn't scowling like he'd taken to doing any chance there wasn't anyone to see it, but she knew better what was lurking underneath that benign smile of his.

"Excited for Ireland, Leua?" Everly asked, trying to break the awkward silence as she pet her cat, Paper, who purred in her lap.

"Oh, yes! My brother has been researching Nivalis Geimhreadh for the past three years. He's been very adamant with my parents that we go, and Mum finally gave the go ahead. She used to think I was too young for adventures, which is funny because she gave birth to me while hunting Nargles with my dad. It's all very exciting though, because this will be my first expedition."

Tom considered Aileua. "And what  _do_  Nivalis Giemhreadh look like?"

"A bit like a buffalo?" Aileua seemed to guess before frowning. "They're supposed to be made of ice though, so not so brown."

"Good luck on your expedition," Erebus said, hitting his feet against the bottom of his seat and eating the pumpkin pasty she'd bought for him off the trolley.

"Luck," Aileua mused. "I wonder if taking  _felix felicis_  would let me see it for sure."

Everly let out of soft gasp and straightened her spine even further than it already was, jostling Paper in the process. "I'll buy a vial for you," she said, her excitement growing the more she thought about it. "Then Gilbert will  _have_  to admit the both of us have a point."

"Hey, don't bring me into this," Gilbert protested weakly.

"But it's so expensive!"

"I have savings," Everly said waving off her concerns. "Plus, it might be cheaper to get a discount on a batch if I ever feel like having a lucky day myself." She tapped her chin in thought. "I wish I could just brew it myself, but magic is restricted while we're away from school."

"If you're so sure," Aileua said hesitantly. "I'll try and come back with something for you to make up for it."

"If you're being so generous, send a vial my way too," Alphard broke in, looking every bit as doomed as she felt about going home. "I'll need all the luck I can get to survive another Christmas with  _my_  family."

"Oh, it won't be so bad," Everly said, laughing. "You'll be getting showered in gifts at least. I'd say that's worth two weeks listening to Walburga complain."

"That's true, and I don't nearly have it as bad as you do this year," Alphard said, a little bit too loudly in front of the reason for her suffering.

"What do you mean by that?" Erebus asked, polishing off his pumpkin pasty and carton of chocolate milk. He was edging on a glare but seemed unsure of himself and how he should arrange his face. The resulting expression was somewhere between smelling sour milk and constipation.

"Are you just going to pretend Riddle and Everly don't hate each other?" Alphard asked bluntly, surprising her.

Erebus shook his head, appearing quite distressed at the notion. "They don't," he said, and turned to Everly for answers. "Do you?"

She pursed her lips.

"Hate is a strong word," Tom said, clapping a hand to Erebus's shoulder. "We just had a small disagreement—"

"It's hate," Everly interjected calmly.

Tom groaned and threw up his hands. "Didn't we agree to be civil?"

"I didn't agree to lie," she said with a sniff.

Erebus turned pale. " _Oh_ , oh, no."

Alphard gave a cold bark of laughter. "That's right. 'Oh, no'. See what I've been telling you? You've just sealed your fate—thought Everly was a nag before? Imagine what she's like when she's angry with you. Plus, if that wasn't bad, we both know you've been spying on us."

"Nooo!" Erebus howled, instantly indignant, and vehemently shook his head. "I wasn't  _spying_. I was trying to say sorry, but she's never alone!" He looked to Everly, panicked. "You know how much I hate crowds!"

"Oh, Merlin," Everly mumbled, melting. "Were you really trying to apologize?"

"It was really annoying so I gave up after a while," Erebus muttered, looking at Alphard darkly before turning back to Everly, guilt in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Ever."

"I forgive you," she said quickly and eagerly and after handing Paper to Alphard, stood, going over to squish herself in between Tom and Erebus and hug her brother. She pecked his cheek while she was at it.

"I—can't—breathe!" Erebus said before gazing up at her wide-eyed and whispering, "Do you really hate Tom?"

"You like him that much?" Everly asked back, aware Tom was most certainly listening in.

Erebus nodded.

She sighed and released her brother to turn to the bane of her existence, watching him press up against the wall to get away from her. "I'll be pleasant to you in front of company," she informed him through gritted teeth.

And Tom laughed—as if he didn't believe her.

"I will," she muttered, a bit defensive now.

He smirked. "Are you even capable?"

At the moment of her response, the train's whistle sounded off, announcing they were to be stationing soon. Everly took the chance to stand, smiling serenely before bending down to kiss his warm cheek.

She pulled back with a carefully made expression and sat herself back down next to Alphard, taking Paper back into her lap. She turned to Aileua. "Was that convincing enough?"

"The two of you have riveting chemistry," she responded with smiling eyes. "It's very fun to watch."

Everly snorted.

"Do you think Dad will be there at the platform?" Erebus cut in, looking a bit ill as the train slowed.

"Did he say anything about it in his letters to you?"

"No."

Everly shrugged. "You'll see him tomorrow anyway, don't worry so much."

"What's he like?" Tom asked, a small frown on his face.

"He's a lot like you," Erebus and Everly replied together.

He looked between the two of them. "Which means?"

"He's really funny—"

"Narcissistic—"

"—and tall—"

"—and constantly bringing guests over—"

"—and very handsome! Like me," Erebus added, preening.

"—and he's impossible to make see sense, so  _stubborn_ —"

"Yeah, he and Everly do fight a lot."

"—but yes, I agree, he does have a good sense of humor."

Aileua burst into giggles. Tom merely stared.

"Time to go!" Gilbert announced, pointing towards the window of the door where they could see parent's heads passing by.

"Oh! Well, then, see you all in the new year!" Aileua said, getting up to take down her trunk and follow after Gilbert, who couldn't seem to get out of there fast enough.

Alphard groaned and moved sluggishly to mirror their actions, hefting his trunk in his arms and handing her hers after she'd placed Paper in the basket that hung at her elbow. "I'm going to miss you, Ev. Please owl me before I lose my mind listening to my aunts bicker."

"It's only two weeks," she reminded him, giving him a side-armed hug.

" _Only_  two weeks!" Alphard bellowed, sounding pained. "You have no idea the suffering of which you speak of."

The four of them moved out of the compartment one by one, and while walking down the hall towards to the exit, Alphard continued to make his suffering known through whining and groans.

"I'll owl your mother, okay?" Everly said soothingly. "I'll ask her to let you come over—or I'll go there. We'll figure something out, anyway."

"This is why I best friended you," Alphard informed her, leaning in to kiss her cheek after they'd come to stand on the platform with all the other students and parents milling about.

"There's Dad!" Erebus shouted.

And to her great surprise, her father, clad in expensive satin green robes, with his chin-length curled blond hair and bright blue eyes, stood there, hands clasped together and waiting with an easy smile for his son, who rushed to hug him.

"Good luck," Alphard said, and abandoned her there with Tom standing beside her, who looked as awkward as she suddenly felt.

Now  _she_  wanted to start complaining.

"He's not so scary, come on," Everly said softly.

"I'm not afraid," Tom muttered.

She rolled her eyes and walked up to where Erebus stood very animatedly telling their father the most exciting bits of his school life.

"—we had broom riding practice, and guess what! I was the best one! I really think I have a chance at getting on the Quidditch team next year. Tom says so too, and he's friends with the Slytherin team captain!"

"And is he a Quidditch player?" Julen asked, eyes only for his son.

"I'm afraid to say I'm not," Tom said, casting off his most charming smile.

Julen looked up, refocusing his gaze and mirroring the look with one of his own grins. "My son has told me a lot about you. Tom Riddle, was it?"

Tom nodded.

"He's a prefect like Ever, and he's always helping me study so I'm not failing any of my classes," Erebus gushed. "Tom is really good at Charms!"

"Charms was my best subject too," Julen noted.

This had the effect of making Tom look rather uncomfortable. "I'm much better at DADA."

At that, she laughed and nearly opened her mouth to make a biting retort—and promptly remembered the promise she'd made to be more pleasant. Ooh, this was going to be more difficult than she thought.

"Let's drop off our things and go get ice cream," Everly said instead, withholding her sigh.

"My treat then," Julen said, reaching over to move an errant curl of hers behind her ear. "You look too thin, Eve, has fifth year been stressful?"

She swore her lips did not tremble as she nodded, purposely not looking at Tom and instead soaked up her father's limited attention.

"Well, soon the exams will arrive, you'll ace them, and get into all of the N.E.W.T classes you want," he said with a confident smile that turned a bit haunted as he added, "A daughter of mine is sure to do well."

And with that notion hanging over her head, the four of them were off.

**chapter six - end**


	7. Act One: A Christmas Prophecy

_**Act One** _

**A Christmas Prophecy**

_25th December, 1942_

Christmas at the Greengrass manor was always rather...  _exhausting_.

Family came by, of course—but that was the catch. It was a very  _planned_  out, hurried, event filled day. After all, with purebloods things could never be simple. The Greengrass family was not incredibly large on it's own but was interconnected to several larger families that were necessary to invite and be invited by. As all things were in upper society, it was all about image and making the Floo trips into feasts and parties for the holiday celebration.

Everly had grown up in this world and knew exactly how much energy it took to survive visiting five other different homes in the pureblood community all in the span of a day. It was a day of eating exorbitantly priced meals, of conversing all the latest gossip, of showing off, and of licking your better's boots for the sake of improved connections. And of course, at the very end of the day, there was always the private family meal, where everyone who wasn't already too exhausted arrived and picked at their food, too stuffed for another bite.

She was just lucky to already be engaged—these get togethers proved to be where most of the arranged marriages were made in pureblood society.

Before all that though, there was the presents in the morning.

Everly hoped for more books—her grandparents usually gifted her old spell books with questionable origins, and her uncle Atticus, if he got her anything, sometimes got her textbooks about potion-making. Her aunt Griselda, on the other hand, liked to get her makeup from her company, Glamour _,_  which she ran with her husband, as well as a collection of hair-care products that Everly was quite excited about. Erebus liked giving her chocolates—she got him an assortment of sweets and a broom-cleaning kit in return—and her dad would most surely be getting her new robes.

She woke up that morning refreshed, having slept better in her room away from Hogwarts than she had in months. It was nice, being away from school, a feeling she'd never really felt before as she usually couldn't wait to get back, eager to return to studying. Which in a way made her melancholic, knowing she wouldn't be feeling this way if her year hadn't been so awful.

Everly rolled out of bed and threw her bathrobe over her nightgown, heading in to her private bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face. Feeling much more awake afterwards, she gave her hair a quick comb through and went to see after her presents, not yet ready to get dressed.

Erebus and Tom were already there in the sitting room with the Christmas tree, and for a moment, the scene took her by surprise. She'd never seen Tom so... underdressed. His dark hair was a mess, the ends of it sticking up, and his eyes, usually so alert, were glazed over as he stared into the depths of the steaming cup in his hand. Even his clothes, normally so primped—as if he spent his nights ironing them—were exchanged for green cotton pajama bottoms and a white worn button-down top with green accents. They both looked wrinkled and well-worn, as well as the slippers on his feet.

He looked like a completely different person to her.

"Morning," Everly said, mostly to her brother as she went to sit on her knees besides the tree and presents. Erebus tossed her a thin package.

"From Mum's mum," Erebus informed her, chewing on a piece of Blue Wiggers Taffy.

Everly carefully unwrapped it and wasn't surprised to be looking directly into the face of her laughing mother. She came in the form of a framed black-and-white picture that moved like real life, and it took her breath away. Elena Greengrass—or rather, Selwyn—looked young, more baby-faced and with a softer, more relaxed expression. Her brows were thin like Everly's but arched higher, making her look a bit surprised with her big doe eyes and long, thick lashes. Everly could still remember the vivid green of them. The other differences were minute; Elena's blonde hair was straight and thinner, longer in length, her nose pointed and a tad tinier, her lips and teeth smaller, maybe.

Everly spied the date engraved on the frame and did the quick math before offering it her brother.

"Look. Mum when she was fifteen," Everly whispered, a bit choked by the emotion she was trying not to show, especially in front of Tom. He leaned forward to look over Erebus's shoulder and met her gaze with a sneer.

"You could be twins," he said, but somehow his voice didn't have the bite she had been expecting.

Perhaps he was on his best behavior too. She doubted it.

"Do you think she would have been a nag too?" Tom asked when she frowned.

And there it was, what she was waiting for.

"I don't know, I never met her before," Erebus said with a shrug, his face a bit guarded as he turned back to his unwrapped presents. It only just struck her that her father wasn't there to see his reactions to his gifts. She looked around, considering where he could be. Julen was usually an early riser and though he'd drank a bit last night, it wasn't  _too_  excessively.

"I never met mine either," Tom responded, and maybe he sounded a bit soothing? Was he actually trying to be nice to her brother? Maybe just to save his own hide, seeing as he was Erebus's guest. Not hers.

Everly shook her head of her thoughts. "Where's Father?"

"He left just a bit before you came in. Said he's off to visit his parents," Tom explained, taking a sip of his tea.

"Oh," she remarked softly, turning back to her stack of presents. Everly picked the one off the top and noticed the differences between the wrapping, how second-hand the paper looked covering the tiny box. She checked for the sender and didn't spy any name except for her own.

Curious, she opened it quickly and looked into the box, a bit surprised to see a necklace. A very simple one that she lifted out to get a better look. It had only a chain and a tiny, smoothed down piece of obsidian carved into the shape of an arrowhead that gleamed in the light as it swung.

"An anonymous admirer?" Tom asked, that bite returning to his voice.

She snorted, and despite not being one for necklaces, she slipped it over her head and watched it lay flat against her chest. Her tone was admiring as she said, "I like the look of it."

Tom grunted.

"Did you not get any presents?" she asked, gazing at the empty space around him.

"He got more than we did, I think," Erebus piped up, eyes wide. "A lot of girls like Tom, Ever."

She ignored that last bit. "Then where are they?"

Tom groaned. "They're in my room. I'll open them later," he snapped and took another sip from his tea, glaring over the rim of it. She couldn't help but be amused, and almost happy that he was being this way with her. It was a bit of a stress relief actually, though she couldn't be sure as to why.

"Well, add this one to your pile then, and don't ask why I got you anything," Everly said, reaching into her bathrobe pocket to toss him a pack of sugar quills and a black box that would open to reveal a glass blown quill shaped into the body of a green snake, with it's tiny head at the very end of the handle.

"Why quills?" Tom asked, lifting his present out of it's careful wrapping for closer inspection. He eyed the snake, which Everly thought looked a bit too cute to be anything close to a real one.

"I've seen you writing in your journal," she said with a weak lift of her shoulders. "I figured it might be a hobby."

Silence, and Everly returned to unwrapping her presents, surprised to see that Uncle Atticus  _had_  sent her a book of potion recipes. She flipped through it and was mildly surprised to find that the vast majority were unfamiliar to her.

"I guess it is one," he said quietly, rousing her attention, almost looking contemplative before returning to his glare. "You've been spying on me."

"Of course I have," she muttered, and picked out her biggest present, a big box that she knew from sight alone to be from Aunt Griselda. On top was a separate present, but in the same wrapping, from Uncle Loren, Griselda's husband. Odd. Usually he let Griselda's gift count as his.

She opened it at once and blinked her eyes in utter astonishment to see what she saw. Everly instantly slipped it back into it's wrappings.

"What was that?" Erebus asked and she shook her head firmly. No way was she going to say it out loud with Tom in the room. He hated muggles.

She was surprised though. What was Uncle Loren doing gifting her muggle music? She thought back to the album cover of the record.  _Song Hits from Holiday Inn_ , it was called, with names like Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire on the front. Was Holiday Inn a picture film? A musical?

She'd never seen a musical or been to the cinema, though she was fairly curious what all the fuss was about. Muggles seemed to care a fair bit about their celebrities and though the Wizarding world had its own circle of entertainers—singers, actors, musicians, and the like—productions and attitudes seemed to be very different between the two.

Everly shook her head and instead carefully unwrapped the box her aunt had sent, opening it to see the great collection of tonics, shampoos, conditioners, makeup brushes, palettes of eyeshadow and rogue, cake mascara, and a great many matte lipsticks, most of them red. She beamed at the sight, sorting through them and ignoring the chatter of Tom and Erebus, itching to swatch the lipsticks and eyeshadows. Glamour products usually had a hidden surprise once applied, attributed to the spectacular charmwork ingrained in the formulas.

She held off, if only to get to everything else she had to open first. Several of the girls from Hogwarts had sent her chocolates, as well as a few boys—she tossed them at Erebus if she couldn't recognize the name—and got a very nice surprise to see that Hagrid had sent her a signed copy of  _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , as well as a note thanking her for helping him in class. Aileua got her some potion ingredients and a letter of all their happiest times throughout the year so far. It really was quite thoughtful and did good to cheer Everly up about what had been such a rotten time for her.

It felt hollow knowing that she wouldn't be receiving anything from LilyAnn, who was still in the care of Madam Appleby, though Everly had been sure to get a present to her family regardless for when she was revived.

Minutes later, when Everly finally got down to her last present, one from her father, she saw that he hadn't actually gotten her robes. Instead, he'd gotten her books. Books she already had. Books he already got her years ago.

Everly sighed. "Mobey?" The house-elf appeared with a crack in the air, giving her a glowing smile.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Deliver my presents to my room, please. Oh, and please bring up a breakfast tray too, something simple and light will do. I'll be there in a moment," she told him, rising and only just barely halting when she saw the way Tom was looking at Mobey, who left quickly to perform his tasks. With complete and utter fascination.

"Interested in house elves?" she asked.

"That wasn't the same one we saw yesterday letting us into the manor," he said, perplexed.

"We have three," Everly explained. "That was Mobey, he's mine. The one you saw yesterday was Gimbly, my father's. And once Erebus summons her, you'll soon be seeing Winny."

"Winnie the Pooh?" Tom asked, brows shooting up.

Everly frowned. "What?"

"I guess Winny poos," Erebus grumbled, appearing quite uncomfortable, looking at Tom as if he'd gone starkers. "Don't know why you care so much though."

Tom's cheeks went red. "No, I mean... Winnie the Pooh is..." he trailed off and shook his head, face clearing of emotion. "Nothing, just a muggle phrase, I suppose."

Understanding lit Erebus's features. "Oh, that makes much more sense."

Something about his explanation didn't sit well with Everly but she wasn't too fussed to be honest. Rather, she gave another long suffering sigh and headed back up the long staircase, back into her room, seeking silence to prepare for what the rest of the day would bring.

**.**

**.**

Her father returned from his parent's and at noon, after they'd taken in all the visitors they were expecting, they left to visit the Parkinsons first. Their time there lasted all but half an hour, as the family left to make their own visits, right according to the schedule the Malfoy's had given the heads of houses. The Nott family came next, and another half hour passed before they too left to make their visits. Then, to the Lestrange's, wherein Tom nearly got spit up on by a baby, and Everly had to take the child from him out of pure necessity.

"I hate children," Tom muttered to her darkly, seeming unable to even look at the precious baby girl in her arms.

She merely rolled her eyes at him—she was on her best behavior, after all—and passed the girl back to her mother before they all Floo'd in to the Black family home.

At the sight of her, Alphard let out a shout that had Walburga glaring at the back of his head.

"Ever!" he cried, embracing her as if they hadn't just seen each other yesterday. He whispered in her ear and very intently said, "You have to get me out of here! Walburga is making Mum  _redecorate_!"

Everly couldn't help but giggle at that but didn't get a chance to respond as her father cleared his throat behind her. Withholding a groan, she let go of Alphard to face him.

"Need I remind the two of you that extended contact like embraces are inappropriate?" he hissed, his eyes narrowed into slits at the way Alphard kept a hand on her arm. She shook it off, not meeting anyone's eyes as she stared down at her feet.

"Not as if we're snogging in public," Alphard grumped to himself. She could perfectly picture the sneer that had to be on his face.

"You need never  _snog_. If you weren't already aware, she's promised," Julen snapped, having the infernal ability to overhear most anything not meant for his ears.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Erebus whispering to Tom, who seemed to be laughing at something. Probably her.

Heat filled her face and before her anger could get the hold of her, Everly fled to the refreshments, ignoring the way her father hissed her name. She only came to regret this decision upon seeing Orion heading in her direction, and if possible, her face got hotter.

"Hello," she said, rigid as she nibbled at the biscuit in her hand.

"You need to make Tom like you again," Orion said, wasting none of his time as he crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

"Why?"

His response was haughty, imperiously lifting one brow. "Because I said so."

Everly nearly choked at that, but couldn't think of anything to say in response. She was caught between laughter and horror, noting that despite how she towered over him, he wasn't in the least bit self-conscious. She turned away, focusing on swallowing as she tried to train her face into careful blankness.

She couldn't say she was surprised.

It didn't matter that he could grow taller in the coming years, or become better looking in any respect, or somehow wake up with a better personality. She'd always known, since her engagement had been announced, that she would never and could never like  _him._  How in the bloody sodding sod would she be able to stomach marrying him?

How could her father expect her to!?

She recalled how LilyAnn had so carefreely professed she didn't want to get married and longing hit Everly so hard in the chest that she swayed. Longing for a lot of things. Longing for one of her best friends to come back, be healthy and  _with_  her. Longing for her mother to be alive, able to listen and advise. Longing for her father to care more about  _her_ , and not the idea of her. Longing that the school year had not been so tough, that the stress wouldn't be for nothing. Longing that Tom Riddle hadn't come to ruin her holiday, and wasn't a would-be killer and dark lord.

Longing that she could, for one bloody moment, stop  _thinking_. Stop dreaming. Stop  _being_.

"Just make sure he doesn't hate you. At this point, your image reflects badly on mine, you  _whore_. I hope you know that," Orion told her and stalked away as if he hadn't just hit her with a blow to her gut.

Everly gritted her teeth, and realized that while she definitely felt hurt, it was nothing in comparison to the  _fury_. It was nearly enough to knock her off her feet, so palpable, she felt her hands shake with it, her eyes tearing up as she turned to spy Tom still laughing with Erebus.

It suddenly seemed too much to play nice with someone like him. A burden so heavy, she wanted to  _scream_.

But she didn't. She didn't.

It soon came time to move on to the fifth and final home that they'd be visiting; the Malfoy Manor, the family who seemed to pride itself on controlling every other family when it came to the societal events. Everly couldn't remember a time where the Malfoy's weren't the absolutely richest pureblooded family in Britain, or weren't planning out the year's events in advance.

By the time they all arrived, the party where everyone had come to gather—Parkinson, Nott, Lestrange, Black, and assortment of others from the twenty-eight—was in full swing and Everly was mad with everyone. Her father, her brother, Tom, Orion, Alphard. No one was spared, not even her mother, who just wasn't  _there_.

It felt difficult to breathe but she somehow managed, feeling misery cling to her as she set out to greet distant and close family alike on her own. There was no way she was letting herself be led around by her father for the night, where he'd hiss into her ear instructions on how to speak and walk, as if she didn't already know.

Then, finally, after having said hello to everyone who cared to see her, she was allowed to do what she enjoyed the most about Christmas; look after the children.

Everly liked children. They were sweet, most times. Lots of times they could be mischievous and purposely mean too, but even then she had fun looking after them. It was usually her designated role, any time she visited family, that she would be the one to look after the young ones while the adults conversated.

She was in charge of making sure the children didn't get too carried away, especially with their budding magic and their new Christmas toys.

Abraxas Malfoy, in past years, was a particularly rowdy young boy, not even ten years old, and liked goading the younger kids into following his lead. Much to his mother's intense exasperation, he liked to pull pranks on the adults—like slipping live toads, centipedes, roaches, and caterpillars into robes and food—so really, Everly spent most of her time at the Malfoy Manor trying to keep Abraxas from shoving bugs every which way and trying to get a rise out of people.

The marked difference this evening to all the others, however, was not just because of her unhappiness, but because Abraxas was currently sick in bed and nowhere to manage mischief. It gave her nothing to take her mind off things with.

"Don't eat that," she chided, as Bryony Selwyn, a cousin of hers, tried to eat a napkin. Everly adjusted the two year old in her lap, and wiped at the messy face of Bryony's brother, Cedric, a three year old who sat on a stool beside her, rambling about the new toy broom he'd gotten that morning. "That's very exciting. Have you ridden it yet?"

"Yes, it soooo fast!" Cedric told her animatedly, just as Alphard walked up to her, a butterbeer in both hands. Her anger evaporated, leaving her half-sagged from the relief.

"I'm sorry," he said as soon as he plopped down beside her, offering her one of the butterbeers. "I didn't mean to hug you in front of your dad. Forgive me?"

"If you forgive me for fleeing and for my father being a bloody git," she muttered and then looked at Cedric thoughtfully as she realized what kind of language she'd just used. "Will you repeat that?"

He nodded his head vigorously.

"Not in front of your parents," she warned him. "They might use a switch on you."

He considered this and nodded again before hopping off of his stool and running off to chase after five year old Roberta Yaxley.

"You're forgiven," Alphard said with a chuckle. "Only if you tell me what your dad has been like around Riddle."

She snorted. What was there to tell that he couldn't already figure out?

"Oh, you know how he is when meeting new people. And you know how  _Tom_  is, especially around adults. It's rather comedic, watching the both of them pretend to be nice together. Father plays the ever dutiful host, making sure he's comfortable in his room, and Tom plays the bright and upcoming star of his year to impress him and gain a connection."

Alphard looked at her curiously. "Since when is he Tom?"

Everly blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Since when do you call him by name?"

She frowned. "I... I don't know. I suppose it's because it's less of a struggle." She turned contemplative, and wondered when exactly was it she'd made the switch without even knowing. "He's dropped his mask around me," she realized and sighed happily at the sight of Bryony dozing off in her arms.

"And you're pleased about this?" Alphard asked, scrunching up his face to squint at her. "Is he, what, suddenly being nice to you?"

"Quite the opposite," she said, cooing softly at Bryony. "He's being positively dreadful."

"And why are smiling?"

She inclined her chin towards the two year old in her arms. "Isn't she absolutely adorable? She's my mother's brother's daughter."

"Atticus?"

"The very one."

"Huh. He never seemed like the dad type to me."

"He has his moments," she said, kissing Bryony's cheek.

"You should see my kid brother, Cygnus the Third," Alphard quipped, a smile forming on his face at the sight of Bryony's peaceful face. "He's as destructive as a niffler after gold, but rather cute too. But then, aren't all four year olds?"

"I've met your brother before," she reminded him, amused.

"Yeah, I know. Just saying though, Cyg is so much cuter."

"I think  _my_  brother is the cutest," she said, quite aware that he was only a table away and well within view.

"No way," Alphard said with a scowl. "He betrayed you! For  _Riddle_. And you felt awful about it for how long cause the little prick couldn't get up the nerve to apologize to his own  _sister_? He may be young but he's not an absolute invalid and I kept telling him, again and again, that Riddle was the wrong bloke to look up to."

"It's not like you have the best relationship with your sister either," she pointed out, a bit flustered by the sudden agitation she was seeing in him.

"Yeah, but my sister isn't  _you_ ," he said shortly. "If I had you for a sister, do you think I wouldn't be able to apologize?" he asked, staring at her intently. "Even if you do nag, and worry, and  _care_ , you're still approachable. Still open."

"He's just trying to fit in," she reminded him weakly. "And isn't it natural for young boys to try and... impress their friends? And gravitate towards leaders? Or people like their fathers?"

He stared at her, wordless.

" _Al_."

"I don't want to argue with you about this," Alphard muttered with a great big sigh. "I'm just saying that you need to expect more out of your brother, or he'll always be just a kid to you. A baby to take care of. And I don't think I need to remind you that that's not something you should want in a boy that should be growing up to be a man."

It was her turn to be wordless, her eyes wide in surprise.

Alphard's face softened the longer he gazed back. "Ev, it's alright. I know. It's not like you're his  _mother_. You're his sister and you don't need to forgive him so easily when he messes up just because you want to be good at being one."

Her eyes stung as she looked at her very best friend in the entire world, who always knew how to give her the advice she needed in the way she needed it. She would be so lost without him.

"I wish my mum were here," she whispered for reasons unknown. "And  _h-her_. I wish she was here too."

Alphard said nothing to that, simply stood and dragged his chair to be beside her before wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him and somehow it was this that made her calm, made that sting in the back of her eyes vanish as he kissed the side of her head. "I'm sorry for bringing all of this up, Ever." Then, very softly, he added, "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she echoed faintly.

**.**

**.**

"Here you are, my beautiful granddaughter," Poppy Selwyn said with a grin as she came out of the fireplace, her husband, Charlie, in tow. She went to Everly immediately, arms open as she took her in and squeezed. Her grandmother kissed her cheeks for good measure. "I have  _missed_  you!"

"I've missed you too, Gran," she said, enveloping herself in the warmth and love her grandmother so easily provided. She didn't want to let go, but eventually she had to. Everly kissed her back.

"Do I get a turn?" Charlie asked with that wide smile of his, green eyes twinkling. Everly lit up seeing him, turning away from Poppy, who went to greet Erebus.

"Papa," she said, before wrapping her arms around his middle and pressing her face into his chest. He'd lost some weight since she'd last seen him, looked more feeble, but still his grip on her was strong and uplifting.

"Did you get the album I sent?" he asked with a secretive twinkle, too low for anyone else but her to hear.

She pulled away to gape.

"It was you? I thought—the wrapping paper—Uncle Loren..." she trailed off when he began to laugh.

"So you fell for that bit of the surprise, did you?"

"Papa," she scolded with a frown.

"Have you had a chance to listen?" he asked, interested.

Before she could say anything, the voice of her other grandfather interjected.

"You are hogging her!" Eridanus Greengrass exclaimed with a glare towards Charlie before proceeding to pull her away into his arms and pick her up off the floor as if she were a child again. "Been able to do that since you were an ickle girl, Evy! Bet this old man here can't do  _that_."

Everly scuttled away before Charlie could even try.

"This again? Quit with that old rivalry already," Lyra, Eridanus's wife, snapped as she came around to hug Everly quickly and peck her cheek. "Oh, dear, you have lost weight," she said with concern in her voice. "Julen warned us. I hadn't thought it would be this bad."

"I've been stressed," she confessed. Lyra had a way with knowing the truth regardless of whether Everly admitted to it or not. She was a Malfoy, after all, and reading people was a bit of a natural born talent to them.

"My fifth year was  _dreadful_  too, sweet. It is for everyone—You've eaten today then?" Lyra asked, leading Everly away from her grandfathers, through the halls, and into the Smaller Dining Room where the table had already been set up by the house elves. As was usual for every Christmas dinner, she was sat between her grandmothers, who seemed only to want to chat with her the whole of the night rather than listen to anyone else.

Everly had a feeling it was because they suspected how lonely she felt with only Julen and Erebus in the house.

"I've eaten a bit," she said, thinking of the breakfast she'd picked at and the biscuits she'd eaten at Grimmauld Place with the Blacks. She also thought about how dreadful the whole day had been, and not even the prospects of eating could brighten her mood after the reminder.

Lyra opened her mouth to reply, but before a sound could escape, another interjected.

"—a Seer!?"

Everly stiffened and upon registering the word, she paled. She turned to see her father storming into the room, his own expression just as severe.

"A Seer?" he repeated, this time to her.

She felt everyone's eyes turn toward to her and she swallowed, closing her own before nodding slowly in confirmation.

"What?" Poppy asked, alarmed. "What is this about a Seer?"

"Her... she's... my daughter..." Julen stumbled back away from Everly.

"What's wrong with being a Seer?" Erebus asked coming up from behind Julen, alarm and concern on his face as he looked from his father to his sister.

"Seers often lose their minds, is all," Poppy said faintly as she answered her grandson and shifted to look into Everly's eyes. "You certain that's what you are?"

She nodded again, her mouth too dry to attempt speaking.

"Not all of them do," Lyra reminded them, her gaze on her son as she said this. "Julen, it's nothing to be concerned over—"

"Are  _all_  my girls cursed?" Julen asked and a chill entered the room despite the toasty comfort the room had been spelled to give off.

Everly winced at the words and exhaled a soft breath before saying, "I thought you knew. Erry told me you knew."

Her father shook his head, anguish written in his expression. He believed the worst would happen to her, that she'd eventually go insane.

"I hoped I was wrong," he whispered, and then with a crack, Apparated.

Everly stood, kicking her chair back and attempting to run out of the room, find her father— _pry that damned bottle from his fists_ —and explain to him that everything would be alright, cause she was a Seer and she was supposed to  _know_  things. He might even believe her if she told him that way.

Except, Atticus, someone she hadn't even been sure would be coming, held her back with a calm smile before handing to her Bryony, who lit up to be held by her again. Cedric was there too, standing as tall her knees beside his mother, Carina.

"It's Christmas," her uncle said. "Leave him to his melodramatics for now, Evy. I'll talk to him instead." And then with that he, too, Apparated.

Everly stared at where he disappeared, numb. And very tired. She turned back toward the table, helped Bryony and Cedric into chairs beside their grandad, Charlie, and slowly walked back to where her chair lay on the floor. The sounds of quiet chatter drifted by her, unheard as she picked it up and sat, looking up to meet Tom's eyes on the other side of the table.

Somehow, she couldn't even be bothered to care he was there at all.

But she did wonder what he might be thinking.

"Let's leave those boys to sort themselves out. Time's awasting!" Charlie chortled, unaffected by the tense air. He called for the meal to start, ignoring the two empty seats, and immediately the plates and goblets were filled.

Discussion broke out across the table. Griselda was speaking to Eridanus about business while Loren picked at his food and observed his watch. Cedric was trying not to fall asleep in his food, kept awake by Carina while Bryony babbled animatedly with Charlie about Godric knows what. Erebus was whispering some joke to Tom, who gave a strained smile in return.

"Your name is Tom?" Poppy asked, watching the boys with a soft frown. "You look too...  _mature_  to be in Erebus's year."

"He's in mine," Everly corrected.

She blinked rapidly. "Oh! Dear me, is he here as your friend then?"

"Our Evy certainly prefers the company of boys to girls," Lyra remarked, almost affectionately. "But no, Julen informed us this morning. He's Erry's guest."

"We're in Slytherin together," Erebus explained with a happy smile. "He's a lot like Dad!"

This got Eridanus's attention as he turned to ask, "How so?"

"I guess it's his attitude."

Tom looked as if he was hoping a hole would appear and swallow him up before he had to say anything. To his credit though, he hid this well with a secretive smile, his tone dripping with put on charm as he said to the room, "Everly and I are both prefects, and I assist with the students in her club. It's how I got to know them so well."

"Is Alphard still helping too, then?" Lyra asked, white-blonde brows raised in concern. "I like that boy. Quite charming."

"Yes," Everly answered after swallowing a bite of her meal.

"Is he the Black you're going to marry?" Charlie asked without looking up, wiping at Bryony's face with his handkerchief.

Her cheeks reddened. "No." Though she half wished she was. If it was Alphard, she wouldn't mind so much that she was engaged without her consent. As it was, the likelihood of her father giving the go ahead was low, due to the falling out Julen had with Pollux years ago.

"Right, it's that brat Orion," Charlie muttered and looked over at her with narrowed blue eyes. "Your father is being insensitive to you again."

"He's looking after her in his own way," Eridanus cut in with a bit of a snap to defend his son. "With Orion, she gets Grimmauld Place. With Alphard, it'll be a far lesser home."

"I think he  _is_  being insensitive," Poppy snapped. "The least he could do is let the girl choose!"

"I agree," Lyra said with a pointed look at her husband. "I got to choose."

Eridanus softened but made a final plea for Julen's side. "Evy is accustomed to  _wealth_. The kind of wealth that she could only get with the head of a household. Especially the head of the  _Black_  household."

It was well known to everyone that the Blacks were second only to the Malfoys in terms of wealth. The Greengrasses were somewhere around the fourth or fifth, given the way things could fluctuate. It was certainly true that Everly was used to having no concerns about money, and as it wouldn't be possible for her to work and still remain a socialite, she needed to marry instead.

It wasn't a  _horrid_  deal, to be fair. She would even get two years to herself, where she could travel the Wizarding world until Orion came of age to sweep her into motherhood. She shuddered at the thought though.

It just wasn't something Everly  _wanted_.

Her eyes met Tom's and her breath caught at his expression.

She might've been reading into it, but did she see  _pity_  there? Was he even capable of empathizing?

"Look at us! Bickering and arguing in front of a guest. Where are everyone's manners tonight?" Lyra asked, chastising everyone who'd been speaking with a look. Her face relaxed as she turned her attention back to Tom. "You're good friends with Everly too, then?"

"Something like that," Everly answered for him, albeit coldly, realizing the truth was far too complicated.

"They  _hate_  each other," Erebus half-wailed, his face forlorn as he looked back and forth from Everly and Tom and then to his plate.

Amused, Lyra turned her silver gaze in Everly's direction. "Hate? Truly?"

Godric, this was bloody awkward.

Everly set down her fork with a sigh. "It certainly isn't anything else, Grandmother."

"It could be though," Tom said, seeming to enjoy the sight of her squirming, a mischievous shine in his eyes.

"Tom," she returned with a warning in her voice.

"She broke my heart," he said to Lyra, and adopted a pained expression that made him look like he had heartburn.

Erebus gaped and Everly only just barely kept herself from throwing her goblet at him in irritation.

"Greengrass girls do that," Charlie said sympathetically.

"How did this come about?" Poppy asked, somehow looking younger despite her age, her wizened face relaxing as she settled in for a tale.

Tom, as ever, excelled at reading people and Everly watched the wheels in his head turn as he assessed his best options. He was back in his comfort zone as he leaned in conspiratorially, half-smiling as he said, "She stole my heart at the start of the year, if you could believe it. Of course, I was aware of her engagement, but I can hardly be blamed for trying."

Lyra was scandalized—and intrigued. Everly glared at him darkly for turning her grandmothers against her.

"I'm glad Julen isn't here for this," Griselda said, giggling. "He's awfully protective."

"And how did you try and win our Evy over?" Eridanus asked with a suspicious glance. "I'm assuming she dislikes you for a reason, Tom."

"I do," Everly said to the room firmly, watching to see how Tom would react.

"You've heard about the petrification attacks at Hogwarts, haven't you?"

Every muscle in her body went still, the shock keeping her rigid. Was he really bringing that up?

"Well, yes," Eridanus said. "Has parents and administrators in a craze trying to find the cause to it."

Tom straightened his shoulders. "She suspects that I'm it. The cause."

Erebus burst into laughter, looking panicked and confused. It echoed how Everly was beginning to feel.

"And  _are_  you?" Poppy asked, her blinks rapid.

He took a sip from his goblet, looking Everly directly in the eye before answering. "No."

She believed him.

Wait. No, she didn't. She had proof in the prophecy, in the newspaper clipping, in his student record...

"But—" She shook her head, brows furrowing, and trying to search him for a lie. "But..."

"She made a prophecy about the petrification attacks. It's supposed to indicate who the culprit is, but it happens to be a bit misleading. Enough that she somehow suspects me, though I don't know why. I wasn't exactly there to hear it myself."

"A prophecy?" Lyra echoed.

"Everyone in school was talking about it. The culprit is someone called the heir of Slytherin," Erebus said conversationally as he cleaned off his plate. "Funny, isn't it? Lots of people are related to Salazar Slytherin, so it makes it difficult seeing who it could be."

"Well, could you tell us the prophecy?" Eridanus asked, intrigued as he always was with a good mystery. "Maybe we could help."

Everly shifted uncomfortably as everyone stared.

"Do you even remember it?" Poppy wondered. "Not many Seers are able to hear their own prophecies."

"I know it," she admitted with a sigh, and frowned as she met Tom's eyes. There was something disconcerting about his expression, and it felt for a moment that her speech was practically compelled as she went to open her mouth. Her hands flew up.

She had no reason to speak the prophecy again.  _She_  knew it, Professor Dippet knew it.  _He_ didn't need to know it. That was all that mattered, really.

"Everly?" Charlie prompted. Her eyes never left Tom's.

"Enemies of the heir of Slytherin beware, for his control of a beast is rather unfair," she began, her voice coming out strong, near calm despite how she fought to shut herself up. She squeezed her hands into fists but it wasn't any use. "One good look will leave you deceased, your chances of living becoming decreased. Let not your eyes meet it's stare, and there might be hope for your repair."

Everly paused and tried to breathe instead of speak, so captivated by his gaze that she was shaking.

"Is that it?" Tom asked.

Bloody  _hell_.

She shook her head. "It's maker was smart, left us all in the dark, his secrets had vanished in air. But not for good, no, never for good, as the hidden heir understood. He can win, he can lose, the question is pending, we're far from the ending, what matters is what he will choose. For that's not the worst of it, no, that's not the last of him, his name will be something to fear—"

"Evy?" came Poppy's concerned voice.

Everly resisted, shaking her head with more emphasis. She couldn't say this last bit.  _Couldn't_.

"But with a bit of good luck to help you to duck," she choked out, her voice strangled with her effort not to speak, "and avoid the furthest despair, with the aid of mighty Gryffindor and Godric's hallowed sword, we shall end this whole affair. That's  _it._  That's all of it."

Everly could finally breathe again, and she sought her goblet to rinse out the rancid taste of having been forced to expel words. She couldn't understand how it had happened and she felt sick by it,  _controlled_. Not by the force that had made her speak prophecy to begin with, but by something altogether much more sinister.

Everly looked back to Tom and she could feel the weight of a lost battle settle over her shoulders. He had to have done something.  _Had_  to. Was it some sort of non-verbal spell? No, he'd have been able to use it before they'd left Hogwarts. What then?

How had he... How had he taken her control like that?

"The heir of Slytherin," Eridanus mused. "Interesting. It could be taken literally or metaphorically. The heir could be embodying the life efforts of Salazar, for instance, or a descendent come to reclaim and reinvigorate the long lost glory of the Slytherin family."

Charlie snorted. "'Long lost glory' is sugarcoating it. Marvolo Gaunt, one of the last direct descendants of Salazar we know of, died years ago, and that son of his, Morfin—something wrong with his brain, doesn't speak a lick of English so he can't get himself a wife. Poor as dirt, too. It certainly doesn't take a Seer to know that the Gaunt line will be dying with him."

At that, Lyra frowned. "Wasn't there a girl in that family? I clearly remember there being one."

"Merope," Poppy said, shaking her head, clear pity in her gaze. "No one knows what happened to the poor girl, but the way they treated her, it was  _dreadful_. Horrific, even, if rumors are to be believed. I have no doubt that she ran away to escape."

Everly couldn't believe her ears, sitting there, looking around the table and knowing that she had strong reason to think that they were discussing Tom's family right in front of him. Did he know?

"What were the rumors?" she asked quietly, her gaze flashing to Tom's face and seeing his knit brows, how impossibly pale he was under the floating candle's light.

He had to know.

"Such topics aren't meant to be discussed at dinner, Evy," Poppy warned her. "In fact, it might be best we leave this entire matter alone for the night. There's only so much my old heart can take these days."

Tom's expression was unreadable and he busied himself with finishing up his meal, and Everly couldn't stop watching him, too many unanswered questions weighing on her mind as the rest of the room returned to more polite conversation.

"It's about that time then, for the ladies and gentlemen to retire in separate rooms for the evening," Charlie announced, seemingly unbothered that both Atticus and Julen had not returned to eat. Their plates still sat there, food steaming from magical heat, waiting.

In the blink of an eye, however, the table cleared itself and everyone began to rise.

"I'm go with Mama!" Cedric announced, and Carina smiled.

"Don't you want to spend time with your Grandpapa?" she asked, ruffling his auburn hair.

He contemplated this, and looked to Charlie to make his decision. He didn't take too long decide after that as not even a second later, he was grinning as he ran to Charlie, who scooped him up with a booming laugh, settling him into his arm.

"Come on, boys, we're playing exploding snaps," Eridanus announced, ushering Tom and Erebus out of the room as they attempted to linger.

"Time for tea. It's much too late for anything else," Lyra said, hand going to Everly's shoulder as she steered her into one of their sitting rooms.

It was minutes later that Everly found herself holding Bryony again, seated in a plush green chair and attempting not to fall asleep at the lull of conversation that carried on without her. She'd passed up tea and the little tot had already given in, lain back on Everly's chest, content.

Griselda and Carina were talking about their husbands again, as both could be known to be difficult and distant at times. Everly drifted off to the scent of tea, listening to Lyra defend Loren, and Poppy try to reason with Carina about Atticus.

She fell asleep thinking about Tom.

**chapter seven - end**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so to make names and family relations clear (lots of blond/es);
> 
> Atticus Selwyn - Elena's little brother, and Everly's uncle. He's the father to Cedric and Bryony. Honey blond hair. Blue eyes.
> 
> Carina Selwyn neé Lestrange - Elena's sister-in-law, and Everly's aunt. Auburn hair. Brown eyes.
> 
> Charlie Selwyn - Elena's father, and Everly's grandfather. Graying honey blond hair. Green eyes.
> 
> Poppy Selwyn neé Parkinson - Elena's mother, and Everly's grandmother. Graying light brown hair. Blue-green eyes.
> 
> Loren Greengrass - Julen's brother, and Everly's uncle. Golden blond hair. Blue eyes.
> 
> Griselda Greengrass neé Nott - Julen's sister-in-law, and Everly's aunt. Married to Loren. Black hair. Hazel eyes.
> 
> Eridanus Greengrass - Julen's father, and Everly's grandfather. Golden blond hair. Blue eyes.
> 
> Lyra Greengrass neé Malfoy - Julen's mother, and Everly's grandmother. White-blonde hair. Silver-gray eyes.


	8. Act One: The Mistletoe Incident

_**Act One** _

**The Mistletoe Incident**

_26th December, 1942_

"Winny, move the mattress to the stairs," Erebus ordered his house-elf and Everly had to duck underneath the floating mattress quickly as she stumbled out of her bedroom door. She recognized it to be the very same child's mattress that Erebus had recently outgrown, which only further served to perplex her.

"Winny is  _sorry_ , Mistress," Winny said, face paling and large eyes widening upon noticing Everly's grunt of irritation.

"Erry, what are you doing!?" she asked, short-tempered as she watched Winny bustle past her with the magically floated bed towards the top of the staircase. Erebus merely grinned and followed after the elf.

"Good morning, Evy," Tom drawled off to her left and she turned to glare.

"Don't call me that," she bit out grumpily before shutting the door to her room and stepping after Erebus. "What are you two  _doing_?"

"Winny, set it down," Erebus ordered, ignoring her.

Winny compiled, and the mattress came to rest at the top of the stairs, balancing precariously as if any moment it would slide down to the very bottom. Much to Everly's bafflement this was exactly what Erebus wanted, and not even a moment later, he was nodding to Tom, sending a thumbs up, and jumping onto the bed feet first.

Everly panicked as she watched him slide down the staircase—staircases he used to tumble down as a tot learning to walk—and reached into her bag for her wand, anxiously rushing forward.

With a great holler, he reached the end of the stairs and slid even further into the entrance hall, swerving left and crashing into a pot of flowers. Almost immediately he began to laugh, and much to her dismay, Tom joined.

"Those were ugly anyway," he said, rushing down the stairs alongside Everly. "My turn now!"

"Winny, clean this up and take the mattress back to the top!" Erebus ordered, clambering off the floor and grinning at Tom. "You were right, that really was a whole lot of fun."

"I can raise you one better. What if we charm the bed to fly?"

"No magic!" Everly shouted, and couldn't believe she even had to say it. "Students aren't allowed magic while they're away from school."

"Can't Winny charm it?" Tom asked, looking to the house-elf. Everly groaned.

Winny very nervously wiped at her brow, and rather than answer immediately, had the pot fixed, refilled with soil, and the flowers replanted in a matter of a minute. Finally, she let her gaze turn back to Erebus before she nodded slowly, gaze flickering anxiously to Everly.

"Before you do anything, ask our father," Everly grumbled and with a click of her black lace up Oxford heels, she headed towards the door.

She paused.

After a moment of long consideration, she turned to Tom. "How do I look?" she asked, modeling herself with one hand in the air, bag hanging off her elbow, and the other knuckled on her hip.

His face went carefully blank. "What?"

"I mean... because you've lived around muggles so much, do you think this is fashionable?" she asked, and unbuttoned the waist of her dark green wool trench coat to reveal the French blue knee-length shirtwaist dress underneath. At his silence and her growing self-consciousness, she lifted her hand to the cloche hat that sat snugly on the top of her head. "And this, is this in style?"

"You look..." Tom squinted at her and shifted his feet before crossing his arms. "You look fine."

It was her turn to squint. "Fine?"

"Yes,  _fine_. Forgive me for not paying too much attention to women's fashion," he said, his tone dripping in sarcasm as he looked towards the ceiling, exasperated.

"I only wanted a second opinion," she retorted defensively, unable to mask the hurt in her voice. Oh, Morgana, why did she expect anything else from him? It wasn't like they were on good terms— _especially_  after last night, with how he'd forced her to repeat the prophecy, which had to have been his fault.

She blinked as a stray thought struck her. How had he even done it if underage magic was restricted? Surely an owl would have been sent if he'd done anything...

Then, how?

Tom sighed, stealing her attention once more. "You look beautiful. As always," he said shortly, turning to look at Erebus, who regarded the both of them with narrowed eyes. "Let's see about that flying bed, shall we?"

Feeling that she'd been dismissed, and reeling from the begrudging compliment, Everly slid her bag back onto her elbow and opened the door. Just as she stepped her foot over the threshold though, looking out into the courtyard—which, despite the falling snow, was kept immaculately cleaned—Everly was held up by another thought.

One she was sorely regretting as she spoke it out loud, "Come with me?"

She turned to see both of their bewildered expressions and pursed her lips to keep herself from saying anything else.

"Why?"

"I don't understand muggle money," she admitted, feeling the heat crawl up her neck.

"But you shop at muggle stores all the time," Erebus pointed out, regarding her with heavy suspicion.

"I usually let them return the difference," she muttered, shifting uneasily in the doorway, feeling both the gust of cold winds outside and the comforting heat of the indoors. "You know what? Nevermind—"

"What do I get out of this?" Tom asked.

"I want to come with!" Erebus chimed in, his eyes darting back and forth worriedly between Everly and Tom.

"I'm going to Diagon Alley afterwards, so I'll get you something there, I suppose," she said, albeit stiffly.

"And where are we going?" Tom asked.

"A record shop in Oxford Street," she answered, watching as Winny Disapparated and returned with a pair of coats. Tom shrugged into his, and Everly was a bit surprised to see it was one of her father's. An old one that she hadn't seen in a very long time, which almost suited Tom better, with his dark hair standing in stark contrast to the gray of the wool. But then, he always looked quite nice, didn't he?

His look was incredulous as he regarded her and she had to remind herself he couldn't read her thoughts before he asked, "What are you going to a record shop for?"

"What's with all these questions?" she snapped back, and then heaved a great sigh after he said nothing and kept his expression expectant. "If you  _must_  know, I received a vinyl record yesterday, but I haven't got a gramophone or record player, or whatever it's called. I figured, what with you having more experience with muggles, you'd be able to help me... find something suitable."

Tom stared at her for a long time as Erebus stepped into his lace up boots and handed Tom his.

"Well?"

"Well, alright then, but I'm hardly an expert on record players."

"Thank you," she said primly, and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment as she realized what she'd just said—she  _thanked_  him!—and that she'd be spending the day, much to her growing dismay, with him. Of her own volition, no less.

"Lead the way then," he said with an idiginant huff. And was that a smile on his face or a grimace? She couldn't tell for sure.

"After me," Everly grimly muttered as she stepped out the door.

**.**

**.**

Muggle London always appeared a bit like a living catastrophe.

The buildings were tall, packed together—not unsimilar to places she knew in the Wizarding world, but were decidedly less of amusing—and walking down a cobblestone street would expose just how many shades of grey there actually were, just when you might think there couldn't be any more. It was awfully dull to look at. After all, nothing moved out of place, or made weird sounds as you passed by, and the colors that composed the shop signs didn't twinkle or shimmer. There certainly weren't as many people packed onto the streets, as opposed to Diagon Alley, which usually brimmed with activity and energy, noise coming from all directions.

The air was smog-filled, and, well, it was  _snowing_. The roads were packed with it, and though muggles worked laboriously to clear it out, more often than not, it was stepped on, melted, and turned into a great deal of slush that wasn't very nice walking in. Her feet were cold.

Uncaring to this and fresh off the holiday, children played in the streets everywhere, jumping onto backs of delivery contraptions, waiting until the men commandeering the wheels noticed before falling off with gleeful laughter like it was some sort of game to them. Others walked around collecting thrown out rubbish, or trading the thrown out rubbish, and a few were playing with toy guns, yelling about cowboys and indians, which she had no idea what either were.

Everly could never really understand muggle children, but they were a bit of a fascination to her. She liked children, of course, but muggle ones were rather curious things, and certainly more abrasive, as though their times on the streets made them bolder. She didn't know what to make of it, as wizards and witches were raised a bit differently and were expected to keep closer to home to play, rather than gallivanting where muggles might see them out in the open.

"What game is it that they're playing down the street?" Everly asked Tom, gesturing towards the gathering of around six boys, who had in their hands a ball she could only assume was made of leather from the look of it. They began kicking it around.

"Football," he said, brows furrowed before snorting derisively. "Why do you care so much to know these things? It's  _muggle_ stuff."

"She  _is_  a Ravenclaw," Erebus reminded him, looking off at the boys that she realized wasn't that much younger than him. There was something curious in his expression and Everly bit her lip before turning to look off at an advertisement for winter coats.

Neither of them had had many friends growing up, and as a child, she could recall the times she was, well,  _jealous_  of the muggle kids who had each other.

"What are cowboys and indians?" Everly asked after the three of them crossed the street.

"Well," Tom began, and had to think for a moment, seemingly not knowing too much either. "Cowboys are Americans? Or, not really, but sort of. They wear funny hats and ride horses while they battle the Indians, which are nomadic tribes of muggles who wear feathers on top of their heads. I don't really know too much about them, except that they were there before the Americans left on their boats."

Everly scoffed to herself, baffled. How utterly  _odd_. And rather a morbid game for children to play, seeing as they were recreating battles that were sure to be bloody and dreadful. Reminded her though, of the game Muggles and Magic, where a child out of the group played at being the only witch or wizard surrounded by muggles. Usually, it was the magical one that won, despite the disadvantages of being on their own.

"So, is that what the war is about?" she asked, turning her thoughts from children's games, and then frowned. "Referring to the one the muggles are constantly talking about, of course, and not...  _ours_."

"No, the war the muggles are on about are the Allied forces against the Nazis," he explained, and she blinked, confused.

"Nazis?"

"The Germans."

She made a noise in her throat as if she understood, before turning the conversation away from war with another question, "And what do you do for fun? When you're away from school, that is."

His response came immediately. "That, dear Evy, is none of your business."

"I told you not to call me that," she snapped, and then turned her nose up to him. "It's not like I care to know anyway. I'm sure it's horrid, like you."

"I'm sure your hobbies are boring, like you," he retorted, and then grinned. "I'm guessing... reading? And that's it? All that you have time for, that's for sure." He snorted. "I do have to ask, is fun something you even know of?"

He was insinuating she was  _boring_? She was  _not_  boring. Or, at least,  _she_  didn't think she was boring. Was she? Blast, this was what he probably wanted. Oh, he was such a jerk!

"Alright. If you want to be that way,  _Tommy_ ," she growled, and quickened her pace, letting out a delighted sigh upon seeing shop sign she'd been looking for. The record shop was also a very tall, grey building, but it had a certain sort of charm to it, what with the maroon door and a bell that jingled upon opening it.

The store was busy, muggles drifting through the aisles, some laughing and some carrying on whispered conversations. They all seemed to be enjoying themselves, even the store attendants that walked amongst them, marked by their flattering uniforms as they smiled and pointed things out to customers.

Curious scents wafted back towards her, scents she couldn't exactly place. Some were almost a hint sweet, and some were grimey, like a carry over from the smog. The least attractive smell was coming from the smoke in the air, from a young black-haired man sitting on a stool behind the counter near the door, one arm crossed over a lean stomach, elbow of his other arm resting on his wrist with his cigarette held up. At the sight of her, he took a long drag and slid an appraising glance over her.

Shoulders straightening, she was prepared to give him one of her own, but before she could get a good look, Tom moved into view, and all she got was the back of his head. She glared and then couldn't stop herself from studying him from a close up perspective, dismayed.

Whoever gave him his haircuts were rather good at it, she supposed—and, wait, surely he wasn't so tall before. If he was, his back was broader than she realized, but maybe that was the coat tapering in at the waist that gave off the illusion that his hips were narrower...

Everly looked away, swallowing and hoping her face was not nearly as red as it felt.

"What can I help you with today?" the man asked, bringing her out from her thoughts.

"Gramophones, you got any?" Tom asked.

"Of course," the man said, and as she angled around Tom to get a better look—he blocked her again! She only barely stifled her groan, and turned her gaze to his ankles. She could kick them right from under him, pretend it was an accident and let the muggles be none the wiser.

Tom faced her, a smirk playing on his lips before he held out his arm to her.

And all of a sudden, Everly was in a conundrum. She'd been on the arms of many boys and men, usually family members, but still. It was familiar ground to link arms, or place a hand on the forearm. But something about his arm unsettled her, made her neck crawl with heat. Never before did she think it was an—an  _intimate_  act. Not until Tom.

It was because she didn't want to be so close to him, she explained to herself, linking her arm with his. Not because feeling his body heat made hers flush. She hated him, that had to be why it made her so uncomfortable.

It was weird seeing him out of school clothes too, she decided, sneaking glances at him. Something about that had made her lose equilibrium. That, and the fact he was with her here at all. She'd been so sure he would turn her down...

Tom followed after the store clerk with an inscrutable expression and headed deeper into the maze of record racks. She spotted Erebus going off on his own, expression awed as he went to flip through them. She glanced at the signs and couldn't make sense of what she was seeing. Jazz, Big Band, Swing, Latin. What did it all mean in connection to music?

Everly barely kept herself from asking Tom, not wanting to make a trend of asking him anything. She swallowed, suddenly nervous as they stepped up onto a wooden platform to look at the gramophones on display.

" _Oh, I can't break away, I must have you everyday, as regularly as coffee or tea,_ " a man crooned through one of them.  _"You've got me in your clutches, and I can't get free. You're getting to be a habit with me_ —"

"This song is rather nice, innit?" the man asked with a grin as she met his gaze.

"Sounds... like something to dance to," she settled on saying, a bit embarrassed that she still had no idea how to talk to muggles.

"Are you good at it?" he asked, brows raising. "Dancing, that is?"

Ahh, she hated small talk.

Not meeting his eyes, she murmured, "I'm acceptable."

"You look the type," he responded blandly and then seemed to brighten. "The name's Stuart, and yours?"

"Aurelia." It wasn't exactly a lie to use her middle name.

"Which one is the best quality for the best price?" Tom asked, his tone brisk, edging on being dismissive.

"You each other's sweethearts?" Stuart asked, not answering his question, blinking as he took in Tom's darkening expression.

"He's certainly not my brother," she said evasively and then thumbed the price tag of a gramophone with nice gold etchings into the wooden base. "I like this one. Is there one in stock that I can purchase?"

Best to get the gramophone and go, she thought while uneasily checking over Tom's face. She'd known he didn't like muggles and really, she was used to seeing similar reactions with family on the rare chance they went out into muggle communities, but still.

Something felt off, she just couldn't put her finger on why.

"The record player is fifty pounds, but if you smile for me, I'll knock it down to forty," Stuart said, bringing her out of her thoughts. She studied him for a moment before elbowing Tom in his side.

"Tommy, aren't you going to smile for him?" she asked, squeezing his arm and trying to keep the grin off her face when he shifted to glare at her.

Stuart laughed. "She has a sense of humor!"

"Just ring us up," Tom said wearily, his expression changing into that of a gracious smile that sent a shiver down Everly's spine. Definitely the most murderous smile she'd ever seen.

"If you're so insistent on leaving so soon," Stuart murmured with a sigh and then sought Everly's gaze. "New music is constantly coming out, so you should make a point to drop by here more often, and actually, there's a New Years celebration party—"

"No, thank you," Everly said just as Tom chimed in with a blunt, "Shut up already."

It baffled her for a moment before she regained her footing, laughing. Stuart looked rather stunned. "Thank you, but I'll most likely be too busy."

"Okay, well..." he trailed off then gave a tight nod. "I'll just head into the back and get you what you need."

"Thank you," she called to his back and as soon as he disappeared from sight, turned to Tom. "You really don't like muggles."

"They're annoying."

She raised a brow and leaned in to whisper, "What does that make you,  _Muggleborn_?"

His expression screwed up before it eased into something much more self-assured, cocky, even. "I'm a  _wizard_ ," he whispered back in her ear and she looked away, wondering at the shiver his breath caused her.

"Are we going yet?" Erebus asked and Everly's heart skipped a beat in her surprise. She could almost swear Tom jumped.

"Almost," she answered, pulling away from Tom. "Did you find anything you like?"

"Not really. It's all kind of confusing," he admitted and then blinked, squinting his eyes at them suspiciously. "Why are your faces so red?"

"Ah—"

"He said fifty pounds," Tom interjected and held his hand out. "Let me see it first that you've even got that much."

Everly dipped a hand into her bag and pulled out a clip where she kept her muggle money, popping it open to show Tom. His eyes widened.

"Don't even know why I'm surprised," he murmured, taking the clip into his hands as he flipped through the bills and took a few out, tossing back her clip without prompt.

"Is it a lot?" she asked, stuffing it back into her bag.

"You really don't know anything about the world," Tom said, not answering her, his gaze calculating. Colder. "Not that you'd ever have to learn though. You'll always be taken care of."

Everly pursed her lips, heat filling her cheeks as if she were embarrassed. He wasn't wrong though. About any of it.

"Ready to ring you up," Stuart said, coming out of the curtain he'd disappeared behind. He carried a box, face red with the exertion as he carried it up to the counter.

"Fifty pounds," Tom said, holding up the bills.

Stuart's gaze darted towards Everly. "Sure you won't smile for me?"

She was a bit stumped why he was being so persistent. Tom's gaze was hard on her. "Consider the rest a tip then," she said breezily, giving Stuart her best grin while purposely ignoring Tom's glare.

"Will do," Stuart said brightly. "Hope to be seeing you, Aurelia."

"Perhaps," was all she said as she went to help Tom lift the box. He shook her off.

"I got this," he grunted, and waddled towards the entrance, leaving as soon as Erebus opened the door.

Everly rushed after, doggedly on his heels. "Into the alley," she ordered. "I'll call Mobey to fetch us."

**.**

**.**

As promised, Everly took Tom and Erebus to Diagon Alley and began to sorely regret it as soon as they began walking besides each other on the streets. They'd first gone to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary where she'd finished her days errands by purchasing the  _felix felicis_  she'd promised Aileua and Alphard. Then they'd gone to Sugarplum's Sweet Shop where neither of them could escape the stares. She could recognize classmates and she knew they could recognize them. Already, she could hear the rumors floating, echoing the ones from the start of the year when students thought they were... dating.

Somehow, that felt like a lifetime ago, though she didn't know why. It'd only been a few months.

"What's going on with you and Tom?" Erebus asked in a whisper, pulling her off to the side as Tom looked at books in Flourish & Blotts a short bit away.

Everly frowned. "What ever do you mean, little brother?"

"Hmmm. Both of you have been acting strange, is all."

"How  _else_  am I supposed to behave around the person I hate most in the world?" The question came out with a bit more snap than she'd intended, and much louder. Tom looked up, brows raised, and then seemed to catch onto what was going on, instantly beginning to laugh at the blush that rose up her neck and sank deep into her cheeks.

She hated him!

Erebus led her further away into the store, leaving Tom behind amidst the other store goers. "You're acting like the time you had a crush on Alphard," he told her, gaze flickering over her face.

Everly slammed the book in her hands closed and placed it back onto the shelf. Very carefully she asked, "And what do you know about such things?"

"I'm not blind. Two years ago you were acting this way around Al. You did so at all the dinner parties and get togethers we had with the Blacks, and you didn't stop until the two of you became friends."

Nervously, Everly tapped a finger against the spine of a book and watched it shudder. "How was I acting?"

He turned thoughtful. "I don't know. A bit like you have a fever."

"Maybe that's what I have," she muttered, reminding herself that when she had a crush on Alphard, she didn't actually hate him. With Tom, her feelings were quite clear. He made them up for her especially so last night, when he  _forced her_  to speak the prophecy.

She didn't know how, but she knew he was the culprit and that was enough to make her loathe him absolutely.

Maybe she found him a bit... handsome. That was it though.

She found herself thinking about his back and swallowed thickly when she caught herself.

"I really don't like him," she said, forcing calm into her voice. "He's too horrid. Mean. Arrogant. And he's like our father! Disgusting."

"At dinner yesterday, he said you suspect him for the attacks, but what if he's innocent?" Erebus asked hopefully.

If he was innocent... Everly shook her head. There was no way that he was.

"It'd be nice if the two of you could get along more," Erebus said, sighing wistfully.

"We're fine the way we are," she grumbled, wary now. Erebus usually got this way when he was about to manipulate her into doing something.

"I don't know. I've missed my big sister, and Tom is my guest, right? I can't just leave him so I can play with you. If this keeps up, we won't have any time together—at—all, this entire year!"

Merlin, as always it was working. Erebus knew exactly what to do to get his way. Such a Slytherin.

Very slowly, with suspiciously narrowed eyes, she asked, "And what would you have me do?"

"Play games with us!"

Her jaw dropped. "Tom'll harass me!"

"Then—I don't know—hit him!"

First, she laughed at the absurdity of the situation—being asked to get along with Tom by her own brother?—and then scowled. Even if she wanted to hit him, she could never do it. Everly was raised to be, well,  _delicate_. Most she could do is shove him or step on his toes, and what good would that do?

She considered it. A lot of good, if it pissed him off enough.

"I'll think about it," she said finally, shifting to look at Tom from across the store from the corner of her eye.

A crush? On him? Impossible. Not a chance of it.  _Absurd_.

Didn't stop her cheeks from heating up upon realizing he'd been looking at her too.

_28th December, 1942_

Everly had spent the past two days ignoring and avoiding Tom, but as usual, he never strayed far from her thoughts. Taking dinner in her room, she'd contemplated him. Taking what was meant to be a relaxing bath, she'd nearly fallen asleep thinking about him. Even when dressing for the night, she'd neglected to dry her hair and instead opted to pull out her journal and quill, sitting at her desk with a candle for light, gazing at the framed family picture propped up beside it.

Longing hit her and she had to look away.

Staring down at the blank page instead, she watched the flames dance with the shadows.

Being away from school, she decided, was what was messing with her head. That, and maybe it was time to rethink her views on dating. Anyone was better than Tom. What of the Ravenclaw prefect, Steven Calloway? He still liked her, after all, even with all the rumors. Perhaps even more so because of them.

She grimaced. No, he was out. He annoyed her with his inability to construct sentences around her.

Hm. She was in a difficult position, actually. Being engaged and from a pureblooded family, she couldn't try dating any of the other purebloods in fear of retaliation, and if word got out she was seeing a muggleborn, she'd run the risk of being disowned.

Everly tapped her quill against her chin, gazing down at her writing with a grimace. She hadn't written a diary entry since she'd turned nine and now here she was, as if she were still a little girl writing about  _boys_ of all things. Her cheeks felt hot, not helped by the toasty conditions of her bedroom. Not even her wet hair was cooling her off, despite lifting a lock to rub against her cheek.

She wondered if this was part of his spell, the one that had made her speak against her will.

Another reason to hate him if that was the case.

Actually—what a marvelous idea.

Everly brought her quill tip back to the page and wrote:  _Reasons to Despise Tom Riddle._

_One: He's quite literally murderous. Dreams (premonitions?) show just how much. Even the prophecy is foreboding, and if dreams are anything to take seriously, he'll one day cause great suffering for the Wizarding world._

It was a thought that left her disgruntled, one that she often avoided thinking about if she could help it. The Tom she knew...

_Two: He petrified LilyAnn! Could have killed her!_

No doubt about it. The Tom she knew  _could_  and  _would_  murder for his own gain. It wasn't that much of a stretch to see him succeeding either, being as intelligent as he was.

 _Three: He's manipulative, arrogant, and uses other people to get what he wants. He'll use Erebus as surely as toss him aside. He doesn't have any friends, so he doesn't know how to treat people as people. There's no changing that in him if he doesn't want to be changed. Which is_ _**doubtful** _ _._

Magic would become obsolete before he let others in, and she just couldn't see him ever wanting to.

_Four: He's inconsiderate. He'll never think of anyone but himself. Even when he helps others, it's calculated to make him look good to everyone else, or serve a higher purpose in his plans. When he was nice to me, it was to get at my connections, and when he realized I wouldn't be easy, he moved onto Erebus. Will he even come to see how much Erebus cares for him?_

It made Everly's stomach hurt to think of Tom hurting Erebus, and something about that felt inevitable.

_Five: Again—he's a could-have-been, would-be murderer! Does he even feel anything?_

Everly contemplated that and slowly came to the realization that yes, he did, in fact feel.

_Most of all, he feels rage, pride, and envy. Rage, because his life is not as he wants it to be. Pride, because he's always being praised for his skill and talent—and good looks. Envy, because even that isn't enough for him._

_Is he envious of me?_

She was startled and laughed a bit at the thought. Envious, perhaps, for the riches she was born into. Maybe even of her heritage. But what else could he possibly envy of hers? The reality was, if he only tried, he could aspire towards anything. Be anything. Go anywhere. Do anything.

Everly stilled at the realization that came to her.

 _No,_ she wrote, shocked _, I envy him_.

Because he was free to do what he pleased.

Somehow, that thought pissed her off more than anything else he'd ever done or said to her. Gritting her teeth, before the ink could dry, she ripped the pages out of her journal and crumpled them, carrying them to her lit fireplace, tossing them into the blaze.

She didn't actually understand him at all.

Not like she brazenly pretended to. If she did, she'd know why he could possibly want to hurt others when he shouldn't have to. She'd understand why he didn't have any friends, and didn't want any. She'd know why he hated muggles, know why he couldn't accept that part of himself.

If she knew anything about him at all, she wouldn't still be thinking about him, wouldn't still be longing for—for answers that would never come.

Everly watched her words disappear into the fire and went to her knees, bowing her head till her forehead met the warm floor. Something inside her wanted to cry, to release  _something_  that seemed building and building to the point of suffocating her. Instead, her eyes remained dry and she only barely kept breathing.

If only she could fall asleep and never think about him again.

_29th December, 1942_

"What are the two of you playing now?" Everly asked, restlessly coming to sit at the table beside Erebus. She'd gone looking for him minutes earlier, only to find him in his bedroom, laughing at whatever it was Tom had said prior to her entering.

"So you  _can_  leave your room," Tom said with a sneer as soon as she'd settled herself. "Interesting development."

"Oh, shut it," she bit back crabbily. "I had work to do, which I'm not sure you even know the meaning of the word."

Tom snorted. "Work takes on a whole new meaning with the way you use it."

"Only because you've never learned what the word means in the first place," she shot back flippantly.

Erebus snickered.

"Oh, c'mon, Erry. She's not that funny."

"The both of you together is what's funny," Erebus noted and then got up from the table to open up the curtains, letting the sunlight spill in. It made his blond mane glint as if with crystals. "Are you ready to play with us then, Ever?"

"For the day," she agreed, a bit shyly. She somehow felt a bit silly for being so stubborn. She didn't like Tom, but that didn't mean she couldn't act civilly long enough to have fun with Erebus.

"You know what this calls for, right?" Tom asked, getting up to look out into yard.

"Of course!" Erebus chirped, already heading over to his closet to pick out his coat.

"What?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

Slipping on his coat, Erebus beamed at her. "Snowball fight!"

**.**

**.**

Two hours later, Everly had come around on snowball fights.

"No fair!" she cried, red in the face from the cold and exertion, chasing after Erebus with a packed snowball in hand. She couldn't stop laughing as she reached for the back of his jacket and yanked him into her arms, smashing the snowball into his face. At his shrieks, she said, "You should know better than to team up with Tommy. I'll just keep targeting you."

Her little brother had been a pain in the neck the entire time they'd been out in the snow. Two against one wasn't exactly a fair fight, but Everly did always enjoyed having the odds stacked against her, so she couldn't exactly complain.

It was quite fun to dismantle her opponents, ripping into their weakness and turning their strengths against them—this was probably the main reason why no one wanted to play Wizard Chess with her anymore. She got quite serious when it came to battle.

"And I you," Tom called right as she felt the impact of his ball on her back, followed by a burst of chill that seeped through her coat. She shivered but with adrenaline so high, the cold didn't affect her as she dug into her pocket and sent one right back at him, watching with a open-mouthed glee as it explode over his chest.

He was just as breathless as she was, and like her, he was grinning.

"Just what I've been waiting for, a chance to make you weep with defeat," she taunted, palming another one of her premade snowballs. Tom knelt to collect snow and cupped his gloved hands together, pressing firmly while he chuckled.

"Sorry to disappoint you, dear Evy, but the one who'll be weeping is you," he retorted.

She shucked her snowball at him, hitting him on the shoulder just as he threw his and hit her thigh—low blow considering she was in a skirt. Snow slid down the length of her coat and dripped onto her knees. She'd have bruises to look forward to.

"Cold!" she yelped before leaning down to scoop up more snow, keeping an eye on him all the while. "How fast of a runner are you, Tommy-boy?"

She knew from watching him that he wasn't very.

He quirked a brow. "I'm the one with longer legs, bookworm."

"So I'm not as heavy as you are."

"So you're not as strong as I am."

 _Oh, this bastard_ —Everly took a calm breath. She would not be riled up like he wanted her to be. Instead, she'd be clear headed and focused. Then she'd go in for the kill.

"You're only a couple inches taller than me," Everly pointed out, taking a step forward. He mirrored the action, shortening the distance between them with a sneer on his smug face. She could spit on it, but alas, she was raised to be delicate—and in a family of Slytherins who knew better than to get their hands dirty in such uncouth ways.

"Ever, Tom," Erebus called, interrupting their exchange, and she turned to see him walking up, panting and looking haggard and puffy-faced. He squinted at them thoughtfully. "I'm heading inside to warm up."

Everly deflated. Was the fun over already?

"Don't mind me," Erebus went on to say, still squinting at the two of them. "Just tell me who wins."

Everly didn't really want to be left alone with Tom. Nothing ever good came from it, and the likelihood of her forgetting to use snowballs instead of fists were high if he said anything irritating enough. Plus, if she lost—not that she believed she would—it would be quite embarrassing...

So, she just wouldn't lose.

"Tell Mobey to warm up baths for Tommy and I in an hour," she said decisively, not waiting for Tom's response before turning to toss the ball in her hand at him, hitting him on the hip.

"Please, I'll beat you in five minutes," Tom declared, scooping up snow and tossing it at her in a spray of white mist. She sputtered against the cold.

"Have fun working things out with each other!" Erebus yelled, already taking off.

To that, Everly burst into laughter—around the same time Tom began to laugh as well. Registering this, she halted and glared at him. "He doesn't seriously think this'll make us like each other, right?"

Tom shrugged, red-cheeked and somehow all the more handsome for it, sweat trickling down the sides of his face, hair mussed and wet, strands sticking up every which way from the uncaring way he kept running his gloved fingers through. She wondered if anyone had ever seen him like this before. His eyes were bright, sparkling with mischief and good humor—as if he were an actual boy her age and not the vague impression of one trying too hard to be an adult.

"Beating you is purely to wipe that smug smirk off your face," Everly informed him.

His grin widened and he pointed at his face, tapping the corner of his mouth. "This smug smirk?"

Her glare turned severe.

Tom spread his arms wide and very expectantly said, "Come on, wipe it off then!"

"My pleasure," she returned, stepping with snowball in hand. She made a point to step on his toes when she closed the distance. When he did nothing to retaliate, nothing but stand there, waiting with that smirk of his, Everly hesitated.

He was planning to do something—but what? He didn't have snow in his hands, if one didn't count the snow caked there on the surface. Narrowing her eyes, she stood there with her snowball poised to smear over his face and debated what to do. Should she take the chance?

No. That'd be a fool's choice.

Everly lowered her arm and went to take a step back—only she couldn't.

"Got you," he said in a sing-song voice, arms coming down around her. She gawked at him, and then began to panic as he used a leg to sweep hers out from under her, pressing all his weight forward and bringing them down to the ground. The chill was quick to affect her this time and her teeth began to chatter.

Not one to let herself be got for long, Everly rammed her snowball holding hand up his jaw and took great satisfaction in the groan of pain that followed. She giggled, wiggled beneath him and found his biggest point of weakness, knee poised again his groin.

His eyes widened. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, dear me, wouldn't I?"

"Evy, you don't want to do that."

"And why wouldn't I, Tommy?" Everly asked with a demure pout.

"How about a truce?" he asked, not quite in a begging tone, but his usually impassively cool voice took on an edge of nervousness she found highly amusing.

"And why would I want to call a truce just yet?" she asked. "I did say an hour."

"You like me that much?"

She blinked. "Like?" she echoed dumbly.

"Erebus told me something very interesting about you," Tom said, eyes glinting with mirth and humor, his lips curled into a rather strange smile. Definitely not one she'd ever seen on his face before.

She suddenly didn't feel like the one in control anymore. Hesitantly, she asked, "What did he tell you?"

"He said you might have a crush on me," Tom said matter-of-factly. "Now, I don't believe him of that. After all, if that were the truth, you need only tell me, and I might even forgive you of your wrongdoings against me."

"How have I ever wronged  _you_?"

"Well, I was rather hurt you never gave me much of a chance. I liked you, Evy—"

Everly snorted, disgusted. "Please, spare me the lies. You liked what I might be able to do for you."

"That's true," he allowed, and then blinked. "You knew that from the start?"

"Of course. You're rather obvious."

"Hm." Tom mulled over that and shifted his body over hers. Pressed against her like this, he was surprisingly warm. She kept her knee in place.

"Are you going to get off?"

"If I had been more honest in my intentions, would you have had a different attitude?"

"No."

He looked down his nose at her. "So I'm no good to you, no matter what I do?"

"If you hadn't gone into the Chamber of Secrets and used the basilisk to hurt my friend, if you didn't act so pompously superior to everyone, if you didn't look at me as a connection to further your own career, then perhaps I could have liked you."

This seemed to amuse him. "You have me all figured out, don't you?"

Everly scoffed and shook her head.

"Of course I don't. I don't understand you or the actions you take. I don't understand why, or the motivation. Is it because you hate muggles from having been raised in an orphanage with them? Did something bad happen to you there? Why don't you have any real friends? Why do you distance yourself by pretending to be someone else? What got into your head to begin with, the thought that you should hurt people? That it might make you feel better about things? And does that ever actually work for you?

"I know it's hard not having a mother, but you have neither parent, so how much harder would that have been? I can't even imagine it. And to grow up in a place, not understanding why you were so different to those around you, does that feeling remain with you that you'll forever be something different? Something special?"

Everly sighed and looked away, at the treeline and the pinkening sky full with a setting sun. "Thoughts like this run through my head all the time, troubling me, and I get infuriated. I think about you more than I think about anything else and that isn't normal, is it?"

Tom took a long time to respond, and when she met his gaze, an odd sort of frown was forming on his face. "Aren't you just confessing you're obsessed with me?"

Everly clicked her tongue at that, annoyed that she couldn't exactly deny it.

"You must really hate me then," he continued, his tone absent-minded.

She sighed, gave a try pushing him off—he wouldn't budge—and finally snapped, "Christmas dinner, what did you do to me?"

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. "Absolutely nothing."

"I don't believe you. Why did I tell you the prophecy? I could feel the compulsion there, couldn't control myself. I was being controlled, and you got what you wanted from me. Obviously, you've been planning this for a while. Since before we'd even left Hogwarts, otherwise you'd have gotten into trouble performing magic outside of school. So what was it? How did you do it?"

Tom simply smiled at her.

"Let's see... compulsion magic is very difficult, isn't it? Hardly something that gets taught in the first place at school, so obviously it's dark magic. Read it somewhere in the restricted section? Wouldn't be too hard for you to take a few books from there after all."

His smile grew wider.

"And you'd need to have been able to perform the magic in advance. Before we left, so..."

Everly frowned.

"Almost there," he whispered.

Suddenly, everything began to make sense. "The necklace," she whispered, eyes widening. "You spelled it to get me to talk!"

"Ah, so the truth comes out," Tom said with a broad grin, swiping a hand through his hair and rolling off of her. Cocky, self-assured, proud, arrogant.

It was all too much. She began to scream.

"You complete and utter  _arsehole!_ " Everly screeched. "How dare you! How  _dare_  you! How dare you try to control me!" Her hands went to her throat, having never felt so violated in her life. She'd willingly put the blasted thing on! She'd even complimented the necklace! Oh, and he'd acted so well, hadn't he? Threw her off entirely with his questions about admirers.

She felt like such—such an idiot!

"I wouldn't have had to do it if you'd only been straightforward with me from the beginning," he taunted and Everly's mind went blank.

She became instinct.

Instinct and rage.

She leapt at him, fingernails raking across his face and just as quickly, reached for his wrist to hold him down and kneed him in the gut with all the force she could muster. Lucky him. She'd been aiming for the gonads.

Tom grunted before he began to sputter and cough, and just as quickly as it came, her energy levels depleted. Panting and feeling rather light-headed, Everly began to cry. Soft, tiny breaths too light to be sobs, but the tears were hot as they dripped down her cheeks and off her chin.

Merlin, he pissed her off so  _bloody_  much!

"Never do that to me again. Rather, never do that to  _anyone_  ever again!" Everly cried, shaking from the cold as all the heat left her body. "It's vile. Disgusting! Abhorrent. Disrespectful. Do you even understand the meaning of the word trust? Have you ever honestly tried to gain it from someone?" She scoffed harshly at the thought. "Of course you haven't. You don't care about anyone but yourself. Well, good for you, I say! You'll always be alone, Tom. Always! Happy now!?"

Tom was quiet but as he regained his breath, from the dark look in his eye, she knew he'd retaliate. Everly braced herself.

She could handle him, she was certain of that. After all, Tom was accustomed to using fear as a way to control people, and unfortunately for him, she wasn't afraid of him. She'd bite, kick, hit, scream, scratch—and something in her wanted him to do his worst just so she could do the same.

Tom threw snow in her face.

While she sputtered and went at wiping it off, he tossed more at her—and kept piling it on. His pants were ragged, but he kept at it, clump of snow after clump of snow. Soon, she was covered in white and she was freezing to the bone, shaking to the point of her gag reflex reacting.

"I won," Tom declared.

"W-won?" she asked with a glare at him, teeth chattering. Her brain felt too sluggish to process what he meant by that.

He smirked and she got a good look at the marks she'd left on his skin, the rivulets of blood beading on his cheek. Red like hers.

"Covered you all in snow, didn't I?"

Everly laughed deliriously, high-pitched and keening. "Are you seriously still focused on the snowball fight?"

Very seriously, good humor vanishing, he said, "When I play games, it's  _always_  for the long-haul, Evy."

Everly stood despite the numbness of her legs. "What am I, in this game of yours?"

"Enemy number one," he told her, that smirk of his returning.

She stepped towards him. "Covered me in snow and you think you won?"

"How else to determine the winner?"

"First one who calls for a truce," she said, a smile curling her lips. "And I believe that was you."

"I disagree. You didn't accept it, after all."

"Who says I didn't? I don't say I did. In fact, Tommy-boy, I do indeed accept your offer for a truce."

"Then neither of us win—"

She launched herself at him and the two of them went tumbling down, her laughter ringing in the air around them before they came to a halt against the base of a tree. Dizzy from the motion, light-headed from the cold, and coming down from her anger, Everly grinned down at him.

"Now you've been covered in snow too."

"You are so petty," he muttered with a click of his tongue.

"Pretty? Why, thank you."

" _Petty_. P-e-t-t-y. Petty."

"Spelling is hard for you, I gather," she said sympathetically. "It's p-r-e-t-t-y, but you were very close."

"I bet you think you're funny."

"I have my moments," she said demurely, watching him roll his eyes at her and look away.

He froze. "Bloody hell."

Something in his tone alarmed her. "What?"

"Above you."

Everly looked up, and felt herself blanch. "Oh,  _no_."

"You know what this means, don't you?" Tom asked, eyeing the mistletoe above them with disgust evident on his face. Everly shuddered in a breath, both freezing from the cold and from having come down from her anger so quickly. What replaced it was apprehensive fear.

Of course she knew what it meant.

Neither of them could get out from under it. Not without them  _kissing_.

They stared at each other wordlessly for a moment, seizing each other up. His eyes flickered to her mouth and hers did the same. Her kissing  _him_? She'd never kissed anyone before that wasn't family.

Now, to do it with him...

She tried to get up off him and leave but found she couldn't. Suddenly, the reality sinking in, Everly's thoughts and worries faded in the face of  _knowing_. She would be kissing him or else they'd be here forever and there was no way she was that stupidly stubborn.

"Oh, just get it over with," she grumbled, edging closer to him, watching with interest as he struggled to evade her. "Just kiss me on the cheek, you don't have to—"

Tom's expression went blank seconds before his mouth came down on hers, the exhale from his nose misting over her upper lip. The abrupt nature of it left her baffled, uncertain what she was feeling. She only knew that it wasn't good for her. Not at all.

He pulled away, expression impassive, stone-like, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he ground his teeth together.

She didn't think. Her mind was blank, save for the nagging curiosity that captured her so completely at the tease of sensation.

Everly reached up, cupped his cheeks and pulled him right back, brushing her lips against his, once, twice, three times. Curious over the sensation and ignoring the stiffness in his body, ignoring the voice in her head telling her not to, she planted her mouth against his more firmly, wondering at the ball of heat that seemed to be warming her from the inside out.

Everly sighed into the kiss, closing her eyes as she became engulfed by curious flutters in her middle. Even more appeared when he began to relax against her, his hand sliding down her shoulder until their hands met, seemingly content to let her explore as his thumb circled the skin of her palm.

She was cold and he tasted like ice, his lips cracked and rough against her own. She licked them on instinct, amazed by the thrill of heat it sent through her. His mouth opened just as hers did and—

Tom groaned, his hands coming to grip her hips, her legs wrapping around his waist as her arms went around his neck, pulling them closer together. Their teeth clicked before their tongues darted against each other with soft, tentative licks. At the rush of heat that swept through her, she gasped. Squirming at the dizzying sensation, his strokes turned bolder, more confident. Her skirt kept riding further up but she noted that distantly. Tom's hands tightened on her hips and she found him pressing her back against the tree, as if in need to somehow get closer. The cold became an afterthought and everything but him faded into the background, uninteresting.

She'd never been kissed before, at least not like this. Not with such fervor and need, or  _heat._

Even clumsy, it was an adult's kiss.

"So soft," he whispered, his breath casting tingles up and down her arms.

She let out a sound, one she hadn't meant to make. A moan. Merlin, save her.

"I didn't think you'd be this soft," he told her, brushing his lips down to her chin and trailing over her jawline. When he got to her ear, he whispered, "You smell like snow and apples."

She shuddered, trying not to make that strange sound again as she squeezed her thighs, feeling the roughness of his cold, damp pants against the skin of her inner thighs. How did even that feel good? Her eyes opened to look up at the sky through the tree branches.

"Do you bite your lips often? They feel rough," she murmured, attempting to regain her sense of thought. It seemed impossible at the moment.

"Always with your questions," he said before kissing her again, scrambling her brain once more. He rolled his hips, surprising her.

"Don't—"

Kiss.

"—hate—"

Kiss.

"—me?"

"I should be asking you that. You're the one clinging so tightly."

If possible, her face got even hotter at that. The surrealness hit her. She was kissing Tom Riddle. Tom  _bloody_  Riddle. Kissing  _him_ —and enjoying it! Despite everything he'd done, despite how revolting she was supposed to find him.

"No," she whispered, surprised and shamed by her own answer. "I don't hate you."

Tom blinked, his dark eyes widening as his brows shot up. "Why not? Just because we kissed?" He pulled away abruptly, leaving her front to feel cold as he put distance between them. "Are you that easy? Your emotions come and change that easily?"

Everly shook her head, half dazed. "Never really hated you. There's nothing good about you, that's true. You infuriate me every second we're together, but at the same time it's still kind of..."

"Kind of?"

"It's fun," she mumbled, struggling to stand with numb and shaky legs. She propped herself up against the tree and hit the back of her left foot against the tree awkwardly, not meeting his gaze.

"What?"

She sighed. "It's fun, being around you. I don't know why, so don't ask me," she grumbled.

"Fun," he echoed without inflection.

"Precisely."

Silence reigned and when she finally dared to look at him, the shock made the black of her head collide with the tree. Even with pain, her amazement wasn't phased.

His eyes were still wide but that wasn't what surprised her so much. It was the slight part to his puffy lips, the traces of her lipstick on him, of the gouges of scratches on his cheeks, the redness of the entirety of his face—creeping from the skin of his neck to the tip of his ears—and finally, what she wondered at the most, was the suggestion of tears that kept her spellbound.

She wanted to stare longer, take her time studying this expression that was so alien and honest on him. His mouth opened wider but no words came out, and if some were coming out, she never got to hear them.

She could have—if a clump of snow hadn't slipped off the tree branches just then, hitting the both of them solidly on the top of their heads.

It sent a rush of freezing chill through her, all heat vanishing in a single moment. With it, came clarity.

In a spray of white mist, drenched in snow, whatever it was that had hung between them just a second before was cleanly dispelled and the too near memory of what they had just done hit her with the impact of a snowball to the head.

She remembered from the cold who they were, recalled the list of reasons she'd made to hate him, the ones that had gone up in flames. Liking Tom Riddle was a dangerous game, one she knew she didn't want to play. Attempting to be nice, to befriend him—wouldn't that just make her a glutton for punishment when it all blew up in her face?

Irritated and aware of how sore her lips were, Everly dusted off the front of her coat and gestured back towards the house. "Well then, let's head back."

She turned away, prepared to head back alone if she had to, when his reply came, voice so soft, stilling her in her tracks. It could have almost been said by a ghost, which was somehow more believable.

"I don't hate you either, Everly," he had said.

Everly pressed her lips together, not sure why it rubbed her insides so raw to hear that, made something inside her ache. She shook her head. Silly thoughts.

Straightening her spine, she took a step forward and waved for him to keep up, too afraid that if she spoke, her voice would shake.

The crunch of their footsteps in the snow together left her feeling cold, almost wishing, musing, that if everything were different, she wouldn't hate kissing him again.

If only it was in the wintertime.

**chapter eight - end**


	9. Act One: Mascara and Lipstick

_**Act One** _

**Mascara and Lipstick**

_30th December, 1942_

Everly was not acting like herself. Not like herself at all.

She was sore  _everywhere_  and during the night, bruises had bloomed on her arms, legs, thighs, and across her particularly sore back. But that was nothing in comparison to the torment of her mind. The winding maze-like thoughts that kept leading back to him when all she wanted to do was forget she ever met him in the first place— _ugh_ , she was thinking about him again.

Everly couldn't bring herself to get out of bed. She laid there for the entirety of an hour after she'd woken up from fitful sleep.

Unlike most mornings, she didn't immediately get up to start fixing her hair with rollers and heat. She didn't dive into her stash of makeup products with the usual free spirit of experimenting with the colors and application technique. She didn't look at her walk-in closet, which taunted her in her peripheral with a cracked open door. She didn't even want to read, or look over the school work she'd already completed.

Everything was quiet, as it always was in the estate too big for a family of three. Outside, the early song of birds had faded into the faint background as the sun brightened and lit up her furniture, casting shadows in her room. Her cat, Paper, was nestled at the foot of her bed, comfortably dozing. Completely oblivious.

A kneazle, he was not.

Her stomach growled, but she wasn't listening to it.

A knock sounded at her door, and on instinct, Everly stiffened.

"Y-yes?" she called weakly, hoping it was Mobey and definitely not  _To_ —

Erebus opened the door and poked his head in through the door, his grin falling immediately upon seeing her. Confusion spread throughout his expression. "Did you get sick?" Upon the question falling from his mouth, the color leached from his expression and his eyes widened in horror.

He rushed into the room and made his way onto her bed, almost as if he'd spelled himself to have extra speed, leaving the door wide open behind him.

"Erry," Everly began, her tone whiny.

"You aren't sick, are you?" The panic in his voice gave her pause.

His expression brought her back to memories she'd much rather not think about at the given moment.

"No, just sore," she told him carefully, and tried for a smile.

Erebus looked doubtful, lifting his palm to touch to her forehead and another to his. "Your voice sounds croaky, and you feel a bit hotter than usual."

Wonderful—maybe she could blame being out of sorts on a cold.

"It's nothing serious, Erry," she said when her brother continued to look at her with that somewhat panicked look in his eye. She took his palm into hers, lifted it to her mouth and gave a gentle kiss to his knuckles. With a smile, she told him, "I'll be fine."

A whine entered his tone, his mouth drawing up into a pout as his hand squeezed hers. " _Ever_..."

She gave an exasperated sigh. "It's rather natural to get a bit sick if you roughhouse too much in the snow. No need to get so antsy."

"You never know," he mumbled. "Tom didn't get sick..."

Everly bit her lip at the mention of Tom, and felt an odd sensation in her stomach, as if it were flipping. If possible, her face got even hotter, and she had to grit her teeth to keep herself from cursing out loud. Why, oh,  _why_ could she not have a break from him for just a day?

If anything, her illness was caused by a virus named Tom.

"Don't fret," she told her brother, shaking herself from her thoughts. "Could you do me a favor and get Mobey to bring me a Pepperup Potion? I'll be completely fine after that."

Erebus brightened. "And then you'll come play games with me and Tom again?"

Everly thought for a moment and gave a soft, shaky sigh. "O-of course."

It was only a matter of time before she'd have to face him again anyway. Might as well do it quickly, get it over with. Maybe even come to her senses and convince any lingering traitorous thoughts how bad of an idea it was to form any attachment to a boy like Tom Riddle—any boy at all, for that matter.

She was engaged, after all, and hadn't she always scorned relationships to be idyllic pastimes that were a waste of time? Where did that Everly go? And how could something as simple as a kiss mess with her so much? Why wasn't she strong enough to not care at all about it? Why had she reacted that way at all to him?

What had he even meant in saying he didn't hate her? What was the point in confessing something like  _that_? And why  _didn't_  he hate her? She'd annoyed him enough, that was for sure. People hated people for much less in the Wizarding world, so why didn't he? It surely didn't mean the opposite was true, that he somehow secretly  _liked_ her.

 _She_  didn't secretly like him, and the notion was ludicrous and laughable to her that Erebus could be even the least bit right about her having a crush on him. Everly knew herself, understood herself in a way that had taken time. So, maybe she'd never hated him—was just increasingly frustrated with him—but she sure never liked him either.

So, perhaps it was because of Erebus's ungrounded comments giving her second thoughts, or perhaps it was due to seeing Tom, for the first time, behave like an actual boy his age.

An image of Tom smirking after having just declared himself the winner of their snowball fight crossed her mind, and she shook it away.

Whatever the case, the mistletoe incident didn't change a thing.

They were still enemies, and he still wronged her. There would never be any chance of trusting him, not with the way he'd stolen her free will at the Christmas dinner. She didn't need to understand him in order to know his actions were wrong, disregarding her own curious nature to figure out why. He was an  _attempted_   _killer_ —a kiss didn't erase that!

Oh, Everly felt so daft spending so much time ruminating on such a matter that was, in reality, quite simple.

The kiss meant nothing. It was just a natural, physical, hormonal response. In the end, kissing was something many people did with people they didn't care about, presumably because they enjoyed the contact. So it wasn't shameful in the least to admit to herself that she'd quite liked it. It didn't mean she liked  _him_ , only that she was physically attracted to him.

Which wasn't that difficult to imagine to be true. Tom truly was handsome.

Excellent, then. Everything made sense again.

By the time Everly tuned back into reality with a sigh of relief, she found Erebus had already left. She was alone once more, save for the cat at the end of her bed who continued to sleep soundly.

**.**

**.**

An hour later, Everly was dressed, fed, and debating whether or not she wanted to open the door she could hear boyish laughter behind. She pursed her lips, disgruntled by the sound and what it meant. They always seemed to be having so much fun together—and why was that such a strange thing to hear within the manor?

It'd been something that had sat ill with her since the very beginning of Tom's stay. Not that Erebus was having fun, and not that he was having fun without her. It was that it'd been a very long since she'd heard his laughter like this, and the sound brought her back to memories that made her throat close up.

Everly took a step back, hand lifting up from the doorknob and falling to her side, limp.

The Greengrass estate had always been quiet, too big for such a tiny family. It's halls, with mahogany floors and walls draped with portraits and paintings, and its high-rise ceilings with low hanging chandeliers that twinkled like stars, were often lonely. In fact, most rooms were often left empty and a small Everly had once been intimidated by that emptiness. Her sole solace; a library with books for every heart's desire, decorated with a carpet of the constellations one could get lost in, and welcoming, comfortable chairs which Everly could recall sitting at the feet of, listening to a resonant voice with traces of roughness tell stories.

Days like that were far in the past and sometimes, the memories that lingered were difficult to bear.

It was perfectly clear to her why that was.

Without thinking, Everly's hand went up and she rapped her knuckles against the door, the thud syncing with her mounting heartbeat.

"Come in!" Erebus shouted and, telling herself not to be a coward, Everly opened the door.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting to feel when she next saw Tom, or what she expected him to be like either. All she knew was that Tom had never looked more handsome, his eyes alight, grinning with a pumpkin pasty in hand and crumbs on his chin. Her heart gave an inexplicable squeeze, and another when their gazes met.

His smile transformed and what was once rather jovial became a delighted smirk.

Everly reminded herself, quite firmly, that he was a could-have-been killer of one of her best friends. She cleared her throat and straightened her shoulders, feigning confidence.

"And what fun are the both of you getting up to?"

"Oh, just passing the time by telling stories," Tom said. "Erebus was just telling me about the time you very confidently flashed guests at a dinner party. Didn't know you were so bold!" he claimed with a wink. "But then, you  _are_ full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I was five!" Everly yelped, heat rising to her cheeks.

"Lifted her skirts right up and let everyone see her knickers—" Erebus began and Everly scowled, crossing her arms.

"How do you even know about it? You were still just a baby yourself, burping up everything you ate and expecting Gimbly to change your nappies."

Erebus's grin broadened. "Dad told me, and then Grandpa Charlie, and Uncle Loren. Among other things about you."

Everly tutted, making her way to Erebus's bed and sitting at the foot, facing them. "Go on then, what other embarrassing childhood mishaps of mine can you recall?"

"Well, there was that time you honked all over Dad's best suit—"

"He was carrying me up the stairs, the motion upset my stomach."

"And then that time you..." Erebus trailed off and clucked his tongue, slumping his shoulders as if all the steam had gone out of him. "Huh. There aren't very many now that I think of it."

Everly grinned. "Of course not. I'm very well-behaved."

Tom's voice made her jolt as he asked her, "So, you've always been this irritatingly... well, for lack of a better word,  _perfect_?"

The questions surprised her, both because Tom had just called her perfect and because Tom was asking it at all. She regarded him curiously. What was the point of him doing that?

"Pretty much," Erebus answered for her, scratching at his ear. "She's neurotic—that's what Dad calls her."

Tom guffawed. "Neurotic?"

"Means that she's crazy about being perfect—"

"That's not what neurotic means," Everly interjected, irritated. "People use it to mean crazy but it's not that. It's a term commonly used for people who suffer chronic distress, unexplained anxiety and the like."

"See?" Erebus gestured towards her. "She has to be right about everything. Has to  _know_  everything. And not just that, everything has to be the way she likes it or she goes barmy, over the moon. For example, did you know she measures her body proportions?"

Tom raised a brow.

Flustered, Everly coughed. "That's not—"

"She measures her hips, her thighs, her ankles, her wrists, her arms, her forearms, her chest, and her shoulders—and she's done this for years, at least once a week. Even has an entire ledger with all the numbers that she records."

Tom turned towards her, clearly intrigued by this news. "Really?"

"He's exaggerating," she defended weakly, knowing that her brother wasn't exaggerating in the slightest. "I just like keeping track of numbers as a hobby."

"She's read every book in the library, if you could believe it."

"I haven't been to the library yet."

At that, Erebus laughed. "Oh, that's right! I don't go there very often, so I didn't really see the point in showing you. But you're really smart, so maybe you'd like to go there?"

"I'd love to," Tom said, and then smiled unnervingly in Everly's direction. "How about we go now?"

"Sure," Erebus chirped, bouncing off his chair and bounding towards his bedroom door to leave.

Everly followed after the both of them warily, somewhat distressed about Tom invading what had been her sanctuary for so long.

When the three of them arrived at the large oak doors with stained glass picturing the night sky and handles encrusted with diamonds, Tom gave an undignified snort.

"Your family is certainly well off."

"It's an heirloom," Everly explained. "Our great-great-great-great grandmother's aunt commissioned an exceptional craftsman to design the door and gifted it to her and it's been in the family ever since."

"How much of this house has historical significance like that?" Tom asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"Well, all of it, really. In the past, the Greengrass family used to be a very large family, competing in numbers even against the Weasleys. Every room in the manor could be filled at one point and given our numbers were so large and we had all the right connections, it made us very popular in the Wizarding community, so guests were always visiting."

"What changed?"

"No one can decide."

"I think it's because of the curse," Erebus muttered quietly, pushing the door to the library open.

"The curse?"

"Nevermind that," Everly cut in hastily, using both her hands to shove Tom into the room. "What do you think?"

He surveyed the place, blinking with wide eyed wonder. It took him a minute to say anything and when he finally did, it was to say, "You haven't read all of them."

"I have actually," Everly said, unmistakable pride in her voice.

"No way."

"I have," she insisted, and tried to see the library with new eyes, curious to feel what he was experiencing.

The Greengrass estate library had a collection of books to rival the Malfoys and thousands of them were shelved on high-rise mahogany bookcases that lined every wall and took up every available space that was feasible without losing the resting area that took up residence at the front entrance.

The settees were comfortable, even cozy looking, and beneath them, the coffee table, the end tables and a quaint rocking chair, was the ever familiar carpet of constellations she'd grown up adoring. She'd dare say she spent the greater part of her life in this room, hiding away from the world while reading whatever it was she could get her hands on.

Tom turned to face her. "I don't believe you."

"I don't care that you don't believe me," she shot back.

"Well, I don't care that you don't care."

Erebus made an exasperated chuffing sound. "Do the two of you really have to argue about this?"

"It's our way of having fun, don't mind it," Tom said, clapping her brother on the back.

"Yeah," she agreed weakly, recalling their conversation of yesterday, " _fun_."

Erebus crossed his arms and gave them both a doubtful look. "Are you finally friends then?"

Everly laughed at the thought. Being friends was definitely not in their future. Though she wondered, if Tom gave up on being an awful person, would she be open to the idea of it? She tried to picture it, the both of them getting along without having to insult each other and the image was so hard to call the foreground that she inevitably gave up.

Tom looked absolutely disgusted at the prospect but said nothing, choosing to stare wordlessly at Erebus.

"I'm taking that as a no."

Everly gave an exaggerated sigh and headed over to the settee, taking a seat with as much dignity as she could muster. Erebus joined her a second later, his head coming to lean into her shoulder and to her utter surprise, Tom joined on her other side, his head coming down on her shoulder.

"Are we taking a nap?" he asked, and when she angled herself to glance down at him, she noticed his eyes were closed. That helped her relax somehow.

"It's not even two o'clock," she grumbled.

"Shush," Tom said.

"What's with this lethargic attitude? Don't you want to explore the library?"

"Can do that later."

And so the day was wasted like that, being lazy in the library, her head resting against the top of his.

Somehow, after the nap was long over, she found that despite the crick in her neck, it'd been a while since she'd felt that well rested.

_31st December, 1942_

"Happy birthday, Tom," was the first thing she said to him that morning, handing him a wrapped present over breakfast without much emphasis on it.

Tom set his fork down and unwrapped the gift carefully, blinking at what he uncovered. "The Little Grey Men," he read out loud, turning the book over in his hand. "What's this?"

"It's what it looks like. A Muggle novel," she explained.

"Why would you get me this?"

"Well, actually, I bought it for myself and greatly enjoyed the book so I thought I'd share it with someone else. It's about gnomes."

"Gnomes," he repeated, seemingly dumbfounded.

"Eat quickly or your eggs will get cold," she said after a moment of smiling at him in bemusement at his reaction.

"Told her it was a shoddy gift," Erebus said through a mouth full of bacon.

"Swallow first," she chided him affectionately.

Tom squinted at her. "And why are you in such a good mood?"

She shrugged. "Tomorrow is the start of a new year."

"And what's so good about that?" Tom asked with a sneer.

"Oh, don't be a brat today," she snapped. "I like to start off the year right."

"Your sister really is a loon," Tom told Erebus, who gave a grave nod.

"Well, if that will be all, I have new books that came in this morning to get to," Everly announced, standing up from the table. "If you need me, I'll be in the library."

"We won't be needing you," Tom said to her back as she walked away.

"Wasn't talking to you!" she tossed back.

Behind her, she heard Tom asking Erebus, "So what did  _you_  get me for a birthday present?"

To which her brother cheerfully replied, "Nothing!"

Everly snorted at that.

**.**

**.**

"Is this how it's supposed to turn out?" Erebus asked while gazing down at the charred results of his first attempt at baking a cake. "Doesn't look very tasty, but then again, muggles do things very differently."

"You're not giving him that to eat," Everly said instantly. "It'd upset his stomach."

"You sure?" Erebus gave the cake a poke and pulled ash away with his finger. He turned his grave expression towards her. "Ok, you're sure."

"Luckily, I followed the instructions," Everly said pointedly, giving another glance to the muggle cook book she'd gotten in the morning after Gimbly made his deliveries. Satisfied she'd done everything right, she opened the oven door and peered inside, blasted for a moment by the heat.

"I did too!" Erebus insists, but she's almost certain he added an uncalled for amount of sugar and enough butter to give her a heart attack.

"Looks like it's ready," she said, reaching for her gloves to pull cake pan out.

"How long until we can decorate it?"

"About fifteen minutes," she answered, placing it on top of the stove to cool and turning off the oven.

"Think he'll like that it's chocolate?" Erebus asked, leaning in to get a whiff of the cake.

"Beats vanilla."

Erebus made an unconvinced grunt and followed it up with another question, "Do you think Dad'll be home for dinner?"

Everly didn't really have an answer for that, but she hoped not. Things between her and him had been strained in the past few days, much more than usual. It felt almost as if he were pulling away from her entirely and the truth of the matter was that his distance came as a relief to her.

It was better than having to argue and plead with him.

"Regardless of if he comes or not, we'll have Tom with us," she pointed out, and more to herself, she added, "It's not lonely if he's around."

Her brother made a groaning sound. "This is horrible," Erebus muttered.

Surprised, Everly spun to look at him. "What is?"

"Well, this was supposed to be my present to him, right? But I messed my layer up, so it'll only be a one layer cake."

"Why didn't you get him something else then?"

"Are you joking? He's impossible to shop for, that's why! At least I know with you to get you books, but with Tom—well, he's kind of hard to read."

"Even you think so?" Everly asked, amazed.

"Me and Tom have a lot of fun together, Ever, but even I notice that he's not exactly normal."

Music to her ears.

Giddily, she asked, "And what do you mean by that?"

"For one thing, he finds the oddest things funny and he can be kind of mean, like he's unaware of people's feelings. I noticed it in school too, that he's not really close to anyone despite how popular he is. Everyone likes him—well, except for you but that isn't the point." Erebus went quiet to contemplate his words and finally added, "It's like he's at the top of a mountain, secluded despite all of the snow—or maybe because of it..." He began to grumble under his breath about whether that metaphor made any sense, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

Everly, who was usually in the business of teasing him whenever she got the chance, let this one slide.

"So, does this mean you're determined to become friends with him?" she asked out of her own curiosity.

Green eyes shining and cheeks puffed and red like apples, he nodded.

"You want to show your sincerity by making something for him," she summarized, gaze turning back towards the chocolate cake.

"But I didn't really do that, did I?"

"You'll have time enough for that, Erry," she reminds him and then taps her chin in distant thought. "Say, what is it that you even like about him?"

"He's brilliant!" Erebus instantly responds. Under further consideration, he adds, "He's funny too, he can really kill a room with a joke if you get him in a good enough mood. He's smart and knows how to explain things well, is patient too. He knows if I don't understand something, so he'll come up with other ways to explain it, so I think it's his own way of being considerate. Beyond that, I really just want to get to know him better because of how mysterious he is. No one ever knows what he's really thinking, ya know?"

That much was true, but—

"Funny? Smart? Patient?  _Considerate_?" Everly stared, baffled as she tried to work these words into her assessment of Tom. "I suppose he has a bit of wit, but isn't his humor a bit dry? And yes, he's smart, but he's not very mature. Not very patient either, but I do suppose he's dedicated... but  _considerate_? When has he ever been considerate?"

"I did say it's in his own way!" Erebus retorted defensively.

"'In his own way'—that's just like saying Tom is weird."

"He is weird."

"He is."

The two looked at each other at the shared understanding.

"It's fun to be around him because he's so strange," Erebus stated with great conviction when she offered nothing else.

"Or a misery," she muttered.

"Do you think the cake is cool now?" he asked, ignoring her bitter comment.

"Not yet, but if we put it in the fridge, it might cool down quicker," she pointed out, already making the moves to do just that.

**.**

**.**

Tom didn't have much to say about the cake, much to Erebus's visible disappointment and her extreme annoyance. She wondered if perhaps she'd made a mistake in the recipe or if she could have found a different one that he would have liked better. Perhaps he really did prefer vanilla.

She shrugged the thought off.

By the time they'd cleared their plates and conversation had become dull, Erebus's eyes were beginning to droop and Tom was looking rather bored, staring at her of all things. She raised a brow and to her surprise, watched him mirror the action. Some sort of wordless communication passed between them, though she had no clue what she was agreeing to when Tom turned his gaze towards Erebus.

"Looks like you need to head up to bed."

Erebus looked at him with a foggy mien. "Huh?"

"Bed, you should go to it." It was almost an order. He softened his tone under Everly's glare. "You look like you're about to pass out."

To that, Erebus nodded. "S'pose I will go to bed then. What about you?"

Tom inclined his head towards Everly, much to her disgruntlement. "Two of us are overdue for a nice long chat."

This made Everly queasy, but she figured she had a few things she wanted to ask him anyway. At Erebus's questioning look, she lifted her cup to take a deep swallow, waving him away.

"Alright, then." Erebus pushed his chair back and stood, gaze still trained on her. "Have fun?" It didn't surprise her that it sounded like a question.

"Goodnight," she called.

"Night," he returned and padded out of the lesser dining room humming a strange off-key tune.

"Did you like the cake?" Everly asked as soon as he was out of sight.

Tom's brows shot up. "The cake? Yes, of course." He said it as if there hadn't been any chance of it being awful.

"Hm." Everly would pretend that him saying that didn't make her stomach flop awkwardly.

"So, Evy, I do have a question. I figure, because it's my birthday and all, that you owe me answers."

Everly frowned. "Answers?"

Tom reached into his pocket and to her utter shock and stunned, horrified silence, he had a picture in his hands.

A picture of her older sister.

Everly's insides had gone cold at the sight of her, of the face of a lovely young girl with a tired smile and glasses that took up more than half her face.

"Your sister, I reckon," he said, tapping at the picture. "How'd she die?"

She squinted at him. Of course  _he'd_  be bloody insensitive and ask right from the get go. "Blood malediction," she answered nonetheless. She had no reason to hide anything.

Tom made a sound of intrigue that grated on her nerves. "And what the bloody hell is that?"

"The Greengrass family is a cursed bloodline," she explained and, more to herself and out of discomfort, kept talking. "I don't know when it started, or why, but every few generations, someone in the family dies of it. They can be completely fine, healthy, and then one day, out of the blue, the curse appears. From there, it's lifelong, debilitating, and extremely painful. It's what eventually kills them."

"Could it affect you?"

She swallowed. "The possibility is there."

"Ahh." Tom's expression was unreadable.

Gut-sickening silence.

Finally, Everly relented. Something inside her began to spill.

"My sister... she died younger than the age I am now. Fourteen. When I was little, I didn't realize how young she was. Mum died when I was four, when my sister was still nine, and my dad could only take so much time off of work. So instead, she was the one who put us to bed, read to us, played with us, ate with us, taught us to read and write, play piano and read music. She mothered us when we had no one and always had a smile, as if she weren't suffering at all. But that all changed the year Erebus turned five, when her health took a turn for the worse and she could barely get herself out of bed."

Everly paused to swallow, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth. She wondered why it felt so nostalgic to talk about this. The nostalgia was bitter, melancholic, and she had to keep swallowing to stop herself from tearing up.

"And then what happened?" Tom asked, and it surprise her, this interest he seemingly had in this story of hers. It made her consider the fact that he'd purposely been carrying a photo to ask her about it, which she couldn't blame him for. There were pictures of her sister everywhere in the house.

Everly avoided meeting his gaze as she continued. "The year I turned nine, I took over as her caretaker. I fed her when she was too weak to hold a spoon, helped change her clothes, gave her water baths and changed her sheets, cleaned up her vomit and, to cheer her up, applied her makeup. Just mascara and lipstick... That lasted for about a year."

Confusion filled Tom's expression. "Why not get a house elf to do all that?"

Everly felt as if she were tasting something sour. "If I did that, I'd be treating my own sister like she was a chore. She wasn't. I wanted to take care of her."

Tom made a noncommittal derisively unconvinced grunt.

She sighed, feeling tired. "If you felt the way I felt about her, you'd have done the same."

He cast her a doubtful look, but nevertheless asked, "How old would she be now if she'd lived?"

"She'd be twenty, as of August."

"Her name?"

"It was Ewelyn," she answered, amazed that she could even say it out loud. That was a first in a very long time. Very weakly, she cracked a smile. "My parents had eccentric tastes in how they name their children, didn't they?"

Tom shrugged, his expression distant. "It's better than the one I've got."

Everly blinked and, because it took the topic off of her own matters, asked, "What do you mean?"

Tom stared at her for a moment, perhaps considering his words. Finally, he said, "I mean—what good is a name like  _Tom_? It's something any bloke off the street can be called. Any muggle with a brother named Joe. It's so...  _mundane_ ," he sneered darkly.

Everly couldn't help but be surprised by his clear distaste, even knowing what she knew about him. She'd never have suspected he had anything about himself that he didn't like.

"Honestly..." she trailed off, tapping a nail against the tabletop. "I'm quite partial to it," she admitted finally and at his doubtful look, added, "It suits you. Tom Riddle. It's rather magnetic, and somehow distinct because, well—you're just not very easy to forget."

Tom stared at her for a moment, the doubt in his gaze uneased. Yet something else had joined it. Before she could tell what, his demeanor changed.

"Still," Tom sighed, placing his chin in his palm. "It isn't even my name." There was a bit of a petulant whine in his tone, something more reminiscent of his age than anything else she'd heard coming from him.

Everly squinted at him, making her confusion perfectly clear.

He gazed at her for a second through his lashes—and then he gave a rather undignified snort. "Do I need to explain myself to you?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "One often does that when involved in a conversation, but nevermind me."

Silence reigned. She responded to it by shifting to rise from her chair, mildly disappointed and yet almost glad to be leaving—

"It's my dad's name, whoever he is," he said, making her freeze. "My mum named me after him, which was the last thing she ever did before she died."

Everly sat right back down. "Mhmm."

"I've never met him."

"Ahh."

"And I don't want to meet him."

They stared at each other across the table.

"Do you reckon he'd be a better dad than mine?" she asked finally, when he offered nothing else.

"No. He has to be a poor old sod, blissfully unaware that he even has progeny, let alone one able to use magic. Or that the women he at one point fu—"

"Tom."

"—cked is dead."

" _Tom_."

He grunted, turning his gaze upwards in exasperation.

Everly sighed. "Have you ever tried finding him?"

"No," he muttered dispassionately.

Everly lifted her shoulders. "If you ever wanted to, I'd help you."

Both of them were surprised by the statement. Her, because it was a genuine offer. Him, perhaps because he hadn't expected it to come from her.

Tom's expression turned guarded. "In what way?"

Everly shifted her gaze sideways and she thumbed the rim of her glass, a bit embarrassed now that he was staring at her so closely. "Finding an address, of course, and maybe—" She hesitated. "Maybe I could come along with..."

Distaste crossed into his features. " _Why_? I wouldn't need you."

"It'd be more to satisfy my own curiosity," she readily admitted, tone a bit defensive. "And besides..."

"Besides?"

"I've always wanted to see more of the muggle world."

Tom's upper lip curled. "Has anyone ever told you how strange of a witch you are?"

Her smile was demure. "And here I was under the impression you thought of me as boring."

His cheeks pinkened, and with his lips pursing, he said nothing.

Everly studied his face for a moment. "Have you ever felt stuck? Like you're a prisoner in your own home? Like you have no control over anything and you just want to..."

"Want to what?"

It was a struggle to describe it. "Sometimes, it just itches at me, that feeling, and I get this great desire to go somewhere, anywhere, that's outside." Everly looked out the darkened window behind Tom. "I'm not sure how long I'll be able to do that."

"Because you'll be getting married?"

"Yes." She laughed. "I used to dream of the day, but now I abhor the thought of it."

"Well, it's still years off," he muttered, sounding a bit gruff and awkward—a bit like he was trying for soothing but couldn't quite make it. It made her want to laugh again.

Her curiosity got the better of her. "Tom, can I ask a question?"

"Will I marry you?" He snorted. "No bloody way. I'd have to be absolutely barmy to try giving that a shot—"

"I know that you're a halfblood," she said, shocking him to silence. "You're the grandson of Marvolo Gaunt."

He blinked at her, stunned, eyes wide and somehow it was like he had never been more surprised in his life. She frowned. Did he not know it himself then?

"How do  _you_  know that?" he asked, and the tension in her shoulders eased.

"It said on your file that you were named after your grandfather, and I know of only one Marvolo the right age for it."

"You snooped in my files? In Professor Dippet's room?" Tom frowned. "How  _long_  have you known?"

Everly shrugged. "That's not important."

"And what is then?"

"Why do you want to kill Muggleborn students?"

"I—"

"Don't lie to me again, Tom. Answer the question."

He stood up, hands laid flat on the table. With a hard stare he asked, "Why are you so fixated on me?"

"Just tell me why, Tom. Is that so hard?"

"You tell me."

"If you dreamed of someone every night for months on end, if that person was always there on your mind whether you liked it or not, if that person never stopped toying with you and popping up everywhere to ruin things, then you'd  _also_  be a little fixated! But you already know that I'm obsessed with you by this point so just shut up and answer the question!"

Tom's smile slowly unfurled as he sat back down and said absolutely nothing.

"Aghh!" Everly shouted, clenching her hands into fists and willfully holding herself back from throttling him. "Answer the question! Why?  _Why_? Why did you tell the basilisk to hurt Muggleborns? What if someone  _died_ —you'd be a murderer! How could you—how could you even fathom wanting to become like that? What is even the point of it?"

Tom clucked his tongue. "You know why already."

She clamped her teeth shut, pursed her lips, and screamed. Why was he being such a bloody idiot!?

"Oh, do I? Then why do I keep  _asking_?"

"Well, it's rather obvious when you think of it. I'm the heir of Slytherin, Everly, and he left the basilisk there for a reason, didn't he? You said it yourself with that prophecy of yours.  _It's maker was smart, left us all in the dark, his secrets had vanished in air. But not for good, no never for good, as—_ aha— _the_ hidden heir _understood._ " Tom grinned broadly, proudly. "Said I'd be something to fear too, didn't it? I'm quite looking forward to that."

"So, you did it for a man who's been dead for centuries? You nearly  _killed_  people, for the memory of a man who wouldn't even know your name?"

His eyes glinted with something, a feverish glint that made her blood run cold in reaction. "I did it because only  _I_  could do it."

Everly grimaced, her stomach twisting into knots. "You make me sick."

"That's not how I think you feel about me."

"And what do you think I feel about you?"

"You said it yourself, dear Evy—I'm your obsession."

Bloody hell, she'd walked right into that one. Swallowing, she gestured towards him. "And what am I to you?"

Tom shrugged dispassionately. "Someone to play with when I'm bored."

At that, something in Everly snapped. She stood, leaned across the table and reached for the tie at his neck, pulling him close enough to feel his breath. "Have you ever loved anyone, Tom?"

He gazed back at her mutinously, pulling himself away. She was having none of it, letting go of the tie to hold him by the back of his neck. For a moment, she was distracted by his scent and the way his hair tickled at her fingers, and in her mind she was envisioning the utterly embarrassing and absolutely stupid idea of leaning in to kiss him.  _Merlin_ —

She wondered if this was what boys felt like around her, and if so, she knew she'd have to be a bit more sympathetic from now on. It was an awful feeling, and no way did she actually  _want_  to—

"Do you fancy yourself in love with me, Evy?" Tom asked, snapping her out of her delusions. "You look like you want to snog the life out of me."

"I'm not a dementor, Tom," she informed him with traces of exasperated amusement.

Tom laughed, and then—

He kissed her, a teasing brush of his lips over hers.

She was the one to pull away. "I'm not in love with you, Tom."

His gaze flickered over her face and he shook his head. "Does that even matter?"

"I don't know," she answered honestly. "I've never cared much for romance."

"Never?"

"Never."

"So you've never gone steady with anyone?"

"Of course not. Have you?"

""Course not."

"'Course not?" She scoffed, entirely unconvinced. "Then what about all of those girls who gawk at you as if you're the second coming of Merlin himself?"

"What about them?"

"Ever have a fancy for any of them? Actually, better question, have you ever had a fancy for  _anyone_? Ever?"

"Hmm _mmmm_. Is this an attempt to get me to say I like  _you_ , Ever?"

Everly hated the heat that instantly went up her neck and pooled in her cheeks. "I wouldn't believe you even if you told me right now, so no," she mumbled defensively.

"Well, then, good, because I do like you. Quite a lot."

Everly choked on an inhale and quickly reorientated herself by leaning farther away from him, her fingers still pressed into the nape of his neck.

He quirked a brow, his grin as dazzling as it was mischievous. "Thought you said you wouldn't believe me?"

"I don't," she ground out, looking away. "The sound of you saying that to me is disgusting. It's enough to make me want to vomit, so I'd be careful if I were you, Mr. Riddle."

"Then let go of me already," he snapped.

"No."

" _No_? Do you plan to keep me here all night then?"

"I don't know. Maybe if you said please, I would let you go."

He grimaced. " _Please_  let me go, I can feel your sweat on my neck and it's about as comfortable as slime to feel."

Bastard. "Hm—no."

Tom groaned and Everly could feel the vibrations of it in her fingertips.

"I'll let you go if you apologize," she decided, grinning now.

Tom got a look on his face as if he'd been struck. "For bloody what?"

"For what? Are you really asking that?" It was amazing to her how little he thought of others. "Well, first of all, you nearly killed my best friend and you've made her miss out on  _months_  of school work, which is especially cruel. And of course, you  _forced_  me to tell you the prophecy—let's not forget how egregious it is to do something like  _that_. Dark magic, Tom, really? And there's also the added fact that someone around you started all of those rumors about me at school! And if it was you who did it—" Everly dug her nails into the skin of his nape. "—then I'll need much more than an apology."

"I can honestly say I had nothing to do with the rumors," Tom said with a smile. "Though, they were hilarious, weren't they? I confess, I almost  _wish_  I were the one behind it—"

Her nails dug deeper in and her glare sharpened.

"What good is an apology if I don't mean it?"

That gave her pause but only momentarily. Everly shook her head. "Just say sorry, Tom."

" _No_."

They regarded each other.

"Appears we are at an impasse."

"Not for long," Tom said and to her surprise, she felt his hands go for her hips and travel upwards—the sensation was ticklish and made her stomach dip as his palms rode up her body and—

"Not there!" she groaned, glancing down to see his hands cupping her breasts. "Do you have no shame? No sense of—"

Tom regarded her cooly. "I'd say this is tame in comparison to what we did in the snow."

She recalled his gyrating hips and the sound of her moans and unfortunately had to agree.

"Still, i-isn't this... This is not age-appropriate!" she yelped when his fingers began to massage her chest. The bizarreness of the situation left her feeling dazed and though she could have easily let him go and left, something in her refused to lose to him. She dug in her nails as deep as they could go and felt something much warmer than sweat coat the tips of her fingers.

Tom winced and the sympathetic part of her relented a bit of her strength. Which he seemed to take as an allowance to do more, one hand sliding down her torso, over her hip and reaching to cup her bottom. Everly, as willfully ignorant as she kept herself, had never even realized someone could hold someone like that.

The only small grace was that the table remained standing between them.

"Age appropriate?" Tom echoed. "Do you have any idea how many couples I've had to break up in this last year alone? They pop up like bunnies and go at it like them too, always finding the most secluded places and going through so much trouble just to snog. It was something I could never wrap my head around—why bother? What's so interesting about it? Isn't it kind of gross?"

Everly remembered her own fair share of experiences catching couples in the act while patrolling the halls. The most severe had been a couple who'd been stripped down to their knickers, hands all over each other in a sweaty mess. Nothing about it had been remotely attractive to her.

"That's my point, Tom. We shouldn't even be toeing this line— _why_  are we even toeing this line!? Aren't we supposed to be enemies? We're definitely not on the same side—"

Tom licked her lips and at her blank expression, asked, "Am I gross to you?"

She grimaced at the question but didn't back down. Instead, she pressed her wet mouth to his. She heard the stutter in his breath, heard his hasty swallow and found similar reactions occurring within her. They baffled her. All of this baffled her.

But there was something pleasant about the strange heat in her middle, and it made her feel heady to be kissing him, as if she'd just drunk wine and couldn't think clearly.

"Am I gross to you?" she echoed when she pulled away to look at him.

For a long moment, there was only the sound of their breathing.

"A truce," he mumbled out of nowhere.

She blinked. "A truce?"

"Let go when I let go," he explained.

She was instantly on guard. "Do you expect me to trust you?"

He narrowed his gaze. "We'll be here all night if you don't."

That was true. Everly relented after a moment of thought. " _Fine_."

"On the count of three," he told her.

She nodded.

"One," they began, their grips slackening. "Two." Tom's hand went to her hips and hers went to his shoulders. "Three."

They let go.

Tom sat in his chair with a heavy exhale, and suddenly exhausted, Everly did the same. They looked over at each other and somehow, it was as if they were communicating wordlessly.

He climbed over the table, pushing cups, silverware and plates aside and joined her, hot hands coming to cup her cheeks.

"I feel like a bull when I see your lips," he said, tone venomous, almost resentful. He laid his mouth on hers, thumb stroking her cheek.

"I have no idea what that means," she informed him when she could pull away, amazed at the flutter in her stomach at the comment she couldn't even understand.

"Good," he muttered and kissed her like it meant something. She knew it didn't.

None of this meant anything.

But she kissed him back all the same.

**chapter nine - end**


	10. Act One: Spinning Spinning Spinning

_**Act One** _

**Spinning Spinning Spinning**

_5th January, 1943_

If someone told her a week ago she'd be dancing to  _muggle_  music—specifically a song as embarrassingly named as  _Be Careful It's My Heart_  from the album she'd gotten for Christmas—with Tom Riddle, she'd have laughed and laughed and laughed. Afterwards, she never would have given that person the time of day again.

" _Sweetheart of mine, I've sent you a valentine. Sweetheart of mine, it's more than a valentine_ ," the man crooned from the speakers of the gramophone as Tom swept her across the floor of her bedroom, one hand in his and the other on his shoulder. She had not been expecting his palm to be so warm, nor that hers would begin to sweat from the nerves.

It was all terribly awkward.

He kept dragging her around like he was lugging a stack of heavy books with him, kicking his feet against hers, and ignoring her dancing commands as if he couldn't hear her at all. Tom was not much of a dancer, but then, she supposed, that  _was_  the point of this exercise.

Earlier, he'd asked her to teach him. Well, 'asked' is such a nice way to say it. More aptly, he ordered her to do it and she honestly didn't have a clue why.

Now, she didn't have a clue why she'd said yes in the first place to helping him. It wasn't as if he was being appreciative in the least. Instead, all he was doing was biting his lip and staring past her shoulder as if the most interesting painting in the world was on that wall.

" _Be careful, it's my heart,_ " the singer continued to croon.

He spun her too soon, his foot kicking the back of her heels as his knees knocked against hers, nearly sweeping her legs right from under her.

" _It's not my watch you're holding, it's my heart._ "

Just as she was about to fall, Tom overcompensated for her weight by jerking her against his chest, squeezing the breath from her, and stomped a foot on the floor like a madman to regain his footing.

" _It's not the note I sent you that you quickly burned._ "

She glared at him.

" _It's not the book I lent you that you never returned._ "

Tom ignored this, hand on her hip like it had any right to be there, and swaying as if that was enough to cut it as a form of dancing.

" _Remember it's my heart._ "

"This song is horrendous," Tom noted, stepping on her toes and stumbling.

 _How could he mess up swaying_? she wondered but didn't ask.

Watching his cheeks pinken, Everly gave his shoulder a pat. They weren't meeting gazes and she wondered why he was having such a difficult time with it.

They made out enough that the point seemed moot. Not that they did it a lot. Just that they'd done it at all, and shouldn't that make things like that easier? Shouldn't they be more comfortable around each other? At least physically?

Instead, it all seemed so blood awkward...  _Merlin_ , she was regretting ever having kissed him.

" _The heart with which so willingly I part, it's yours to take to keep or break. But please, before you start, be careful, it's my heart."_

"I like the song," she mused, half because she really did and half out of spite. "It's sweet."

Tom wrinkled his nose, but before he could say anything else, he squashed her toes with his two left feet and the song came to a close. She shoved him away hastily, not wanting to give him any ideas about continuing. She'd suffered enough.

" _Tommy_ ," she groaned, stumbling back towards her bed. She landed on it with a groan. "I'm not going to keep dancing with you if you keep stepping on me."

"Your feet should move out of the way then," Tom grumbled as he unceremoniously joined her on the bed. His hand went to her shoulder and heat radiated from him like he was a furnace. It made her face feel warm to be under his gaze, and suddenly the tables were turned. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"Don't touch me," she muttered, leaning away from him so she could cool down.

Tom scoffed. "And why not? You seem to like it when I touch you."

 _Bloody hell_ , she internally groaned. How could he say such things like that out loud?

"Not right now," she said and gestured pointedly to what they were sitting on. "Just not right now." Saying that made the blush in her cheeks feel suffocating.

"Idiot," Tom muttered, but when she looked over, his face was just as red.

It never got any less bizarre seeing him that way. It never got any less bizarre being like this with him. Honestly, she hated it—he made everything strange between them and was a complete arse about it.

But, for some damn bloody reason that was just as mysterious as the existence of nivalis geimhreadh, that didn't mean she wasn't enjoying it either.

She was fast coming to realize that the strangest one out of the both of them might actually be her.

"Why do you want to learn to dance anyway?" she asked out of exasperation with herself, earnestly attempting to change the subject.

"Because," he grumbled, "I'm bad at it and I want to get better."

Everly gave a surprised bark of laughter.

He scowled. "What?"

"Never thought I'd hear you say you're bad at anything."

"It's certainly a rarity," Tom agreed with a smirk and then he paused, as if struck by a thought. "But isn't it the same for you?"

"The same for me?"

"Have you ever been bad at anything?"

She thought about it. "I'm usually bad at everything until I improve through practice."

"Hmm." He sounded a bit disappointed.

"What's it like for you then?"

"I'm naturally gifted at most things that I try."

"People do refer to you as a genius," she noted and then added whimsically, "Well, if you're a natural genius, then I'm a genius at self-improvement."

"Everly," he said, his tone catching her off guard. She turned to meet his gaze and instead felt his lips brushing against hers. It was delicate, soft. Her heart was in her throat.

_Merlin._

"Tom?"

He was scowling when she got far enough to see his face. "I hate dancing. Why do people do it?"

She blinked. He was being so strange today. "Traditions, personal enjoyment—that sort of thing."

"Hmmm."

"Have you finished your school work?" Everly asked, not sure what else to say.

"Of course. Have you?"

"Of course."

Heavy, awkward silence ensued. Everly had a feeling bringing up school was a bad idea.

And that brought to mind a question that had been nagging her the past few days.

"Will we continue this...  _behavior_  at school?"

He shrugged. "Depends."

"On what?"

"A couple things."

Squinting at him, she nudged her shoulder with his. "Like?"

"Well, won't we be too busy just to sneak out just to snog?"

"It would be awfully irresponsible of us," she agreed, deflating.

Oh, why was  _she_  acting all disappointed?

"Say, Evy," Tom began with a sudden shift in his tone, "what's your reason?"

"My reason?" she echoed, apprehensive.

He stared at her as if she should understand and when it seemed perfectly clear that she didn't, he gave an extended sigh of exasperation and leveled with her. "I've wondered about it, but I'm never able to understand the reasons you do things."

That made two of them.

"So, tell me why. Why do you snog me, when you don't like me? You think I'm a bad person, someone dislikeable, and yet you can admit that you have fun with me despite that. You're constantly judging me, asking me stupid questions and pretending like you're so much better than me because you like thinking you know me—and yet you keep kissing me with that bloody absurd mouth of yours—"

"You keep kissing me too!" Everly bit out defensively, face hot from embarrassment. None of what he said was exactly wrong either.

And did he just call her mouth bloody absurd?

"Yeah," he said, eyes rolling, "but I know my reasons."

"And what  _are_  your reasons?" she asked accusingly.

He deflected, gaze flickering past her. "I asked you first."

Everly elbowed him in the side but when he didn't budge, she gave in. With a grand sigh, she shrugged and said, "I enjoy kissing you, that's why. It feels nice."

His brows shot up. "That's it? No grand scheme to woo me into changing my mind about what I'm doing?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Would it even work?"

He appeared momentarily stunned. "Of course not. But women tend to think stupid things about men, and I was curious to know if you were one of them."

Everly balled her hand into a fist and nearly let it fly at his face, only stopping when she further thought things out. She contemplated the question more completely. "Well, no need to worry, because I would never bother to put that much effort into you."

He drew back, clearly offended. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean," she said with a hint of a smile, "exactly what I said. I wouldn't put effort like that into you when it'd be so useless. People are people, they can change—but who changes for any reason but their own? For love? I told you, I'm no romantic and even then, what motivation is there in trying to better you? Why should I play nanny to you just to keep your head out of trouble when you should be the one responsible enough to make your own choices and handle the consequences that come with them?"

Tom seemed to muse this, and after a moment of silence Everly spent studying the way the sunlight made his dark brown hair almost copper, he came out with, "So you don't like me?"

"Not especially," she answered before she could consider it. Then when she did, she had to make a musing statement of her own, "You know what I find interesting? That you care enough to ask at all."

His neck reddened. "I don't. I don't care—and why don't you like me?"

Everly laughed outright. He sounded so petulant, like a brat.

"Wait," he said shooting up to a standing position before walking to her door. He sent a look over his shoulder. "Don't answer that, because I don't care."

"Right."

"See you at dinner," he said in a pleasant tone.

"Till we meet again," she called, watching him shut the door behind him.

Once alone, she couldn't help laughing till her ribs hurt.

_7th January, 1943_

A full day later, Everly found herself back in Diagon Alley with her little brother and bane of her existence.

Well, not so much bane of existence anymore. Suppose he'd be more of a guilty pleasure, if she really had to classify him. And wasn't that such a funny thought?

Tom Riddle, a guilty pleasure.

Everly strolled through the store they'd stepped into and surveyed a stock of No-Heat Fireworks. Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop was not a place she could often be seen in, and to be honest, she couldn't clearly recall the last time she'd stepped in. Usually Erebus could convince their father to go in with him, but this time it couldn't be helped.

Tomorrow they'd be on the train back to Hogwarts, and Erebus wanted to spend some of his Christmas sickles on jokes for schoolmates.

She, on the other hand, had no idea what she was looking at.

"We're friends at this point, aren't we, Evy?" Tom asked beside her, surveying the different assortments of fireworks.

"I don't think so," she countered, lifting a box of fireworks that promised to burst into golden fire breathing dragons. Supposedly, they'd last three minutes before going out. She put it back.

Tom picked up the box right beside it. "What, so we can't even be friends?" His tone was conversational and she didn't trust it.

"Friends are certainly not what you collect, Tommy."

He snorted. "And what is it that I collect then?"

"Oh," she thought for a moment, lifting up what looked to be a candle, "would they be called followers or henchmen? Suppose it's what you prefer."

Tom shook his head and sighed. "Sometimes I forget how annoying you can be."

Ignoring him, Everly gave the candle a test sniff and gagged immediately. " _Disgusting_. Who thinks  _this_  would sell?"

Incredulous, she read the label:  _magically enabled to smell like the worst thing the sniffer can think of!_ It was little wonder she smelled the sickly sweet scent of decay.

"Hand it over," Tom ordered, taking the candle into his hand. He considered the label and grinned. "Excellent. I could really use something like this."

Everly gave him a droll stare. "I  _never_  forget how annoying you are. You don't let me."

"Sometimes I think that's what turns you on."

" _Tommy!_ " she hissed, heat climbing up her neck.

Tom was smirking when she chanced meeting his gaze and oddly enough, that expression was enough to make her go a little weak in the knees. The corners of his mouth twitching, he asked, "Am I wrong?"

 _Apparently not_ , she thought grimly. No way was she telling him that though.

"You are such a prat," was all she said, turning her back to him and moving on.

He kept pace with her. "By the look on your face, I'm right though, aren't I?"

At that, she felt her lips reluctantly pull into a smile. Embarrassed, she let out a disgruntled, "Moron," and stalked off to view an assortment of toy bugs.

"Tom!" a feminine voice cut in and out of curiosity, nothing more, she looked up.

Everly let out a groan.

"Vanessa," Tom greeted with a smile dripping with charm. His eyes twinkled like he was staring at a diamond, rather than the face of a happy brunette with sparkling cornflower blue eyes. "Wouldn't expect to meet you here."

"Well, I wouldn't normally expect to be here myself," Vanessa said with a grin that set Everly's teeth to a grind. "But my brother dragged me in here, perhaps just to torment me with all the strange smells."

Tom lifted his candle. "That would be coming from these, I suspect."

Vanessa wrinkled her nose. "Rather pungent, that dishwater scent. Can't believe anyone would want to buy that."

Tom gave the candle a considering look and nodded once before flickering his gaze towards Everly and back to Vanessa. "I'm in complete agreeance with you. Absolutely ridiculous—and at this price, even. Seventeen sickles." He scoffed and set the candle down with a smug grin.

Everly silently cursed him with every vulgar phrase she could think of in that moment and decided she could better spend her time elsewhere.

She got about as far as the next aisle and just so happened to hear them on the other side, when Vanessa asked, "So, I wouldn't suspect you usually come here either. Too... er,  _grubby_."

"I don't usually come here, that's true," he said. "Where did you say your brother was? He's that second year, right?"

"Yes," Vanessa sighed. "And only Hufflepuff in our family, I'm afraid. Quite sad really."

"A Hufflepuff? Sounds troublesome. I'm surprised you can even stand to be seen with him in public."

Everly rolled her eyes. Some of the nicest people she'd ever met, and some of the hardest workers in the community, had been Hufflepuffs—leave it to Tom to want to ignore that.

Vanessa tittered. "Why do you think I'm over here talking to you? I can't  _stand_  him. He's usually whining because he's the baby of the family and my mum saw fit to spoil him."

Everly briefly considered what being spoiled by a mother was like, and had such difficulty dredging up an image of that, she eventually had to shake her head, nearly missing Tom's response.

"—didn't come here alone."

"Who'd you come with?"

"Erebus."

"That runt?" Vanessa laughed. "So I really did see that slag sister of his with you?"

If Everly's memory was to be believed, this would be the first time she was ever called a slag. It was also dawning on her that her instincts were becoming much more violent these days, if the itch to slap the Travers girl was any indication.

What grated most though was not just being called that way, however, but the almost slimy knowledge sitting with her that Everly's recent behavior didn't exactly deny the accusation.  _Was_  she a slag?

" _Don't call her that_."

The words gave Everly a jolt, but it was the venomous tone in his voice that left her stunned.

Vanessa definitely had not been expecting it, and her voice shook noticeably. "C-call her what? A slag?"

Tom took a moment to respond, and even just listening in, Everly could feel the tension from where she stood. "Vanessa," he said finally, "I'm... curious."

"About?" she asked nervously.

"Well, those rumors about her. They came out of nowhere, quite unexpectedly and I've always wondered—well, you wouldn't happen to know anything about how they got started, would you?"

Vanessa tittered, nervously this time. "You—I—you had a laugh over them though, didn't you?"

"For a time."

"Then what's wrong now?"

"Everly and I," Tom began and then paused. He seemed to be considering his words carefully as he continued slowly, "have worked out our differences."

Everly leaned forward, wondering where the hell he was going with this.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Vanessa asked, her usually soft voice gaining an edge with her tone of incredulous anger.

"Oh, just that she's not completely dreadful to be around."

Gushing praise coming from him. Everly rolled her eyes.

"So, you're protecting her now, is that it? What, did she beg for forgiveness on her knees?" She scoffed. "Does this mean I have to act as if I like her?"

Tom chuckled. "Definitely not. Evy is a hawk for such things—she'll sooner make a fool out of you for pretending than pretend she doesn't notice. And she notices everything."

Vanessa released an undignified squak. "Wait, wait, wait— _Evy_? You've given her a  _nickname_?"

Tom made a dismissive chuff. "I didn't give her a nickname. Her grandparents did."

"Her grandparents? What  _happened_  to you, Tom? You—You're different."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Tom asked, sounding genuinely stunned to disbelief.

"You're just, you're different. Not as..."

He sighed out with exaggerated exasperation. "Oh, shut up, please. Just answer the bloody question, Vanessa: did you spread the rumors or was it someone else?"

"I didn't, I just gave the idea to Cynthia. We thought it'd be something you would appreciate."

"And the welts? When her face was attacked?"

"I had nothing to do with that—that was all Jenson."

"I see."

Vanessa cleared her throat. "So, are you mad? Because we didn't know you liked her. If we did, that wouldn't have happened—"

"I don't like her."

"But you just—"

"I'm not mad. After all, I did get great laughs out of those events."

"Then why're you pestering me about this if you're not mad?" Vanessa asked with a snap in her voice, and Everly was almost impressed. Vanessa was a lot bolder than Everly had given her credit for, and certainly less of a 'mindless follower' that Alphard had painted Tom's lackeys out to be.

"I told you. I've been curious—that's all."

"Well," Vanessa said, not sounding convinced, "if that's all, I'm going to find my brother so I can get away from that candle smell as quick as possible. See you at school tomorrow?"

"Yeah, tomorrow."

"Brilliant—see you then."

Everly waited for the sounds of footsteps to recede before ducking out from the aisle and rounding to meet Tom's troubled gaze. He narrowed his eyes at the sight of her, his displeasure intense.

"You were listening that entire time."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course I was."

"Well, thoughts? I know you're going to give them to me whether I like it or not."

Everly cracked a grin. "I don't really understand what she's talking about with you changing. You're still as much of a prat as ever."

This seemed to ease some tension in his shoulders. "I thought so too."

"Though," she added as a thought struck her, "it's true you're not usually as much of an arse out in the open."

This seemed to surprise him and his brows shot up. "Really?"

"Yeah. You usually try and maintain a charming, gentlemanly figure."

His expression fell and for a moment, he looked absolutely disturbed. That is, until he wiped his face clean of emotion.

"Don't get too worried over it. We all have our off days," she told him, and found herself reaching for his hand. She was holding his and giving it a squeeze before she realized what she'd done, and when she did, the embarrassment set in quick.

He noticed. "Wow, Evy—can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?"

She dropped his hand like it was on fire and took an emergency step away from him, turning up her nose with a sniff. "Just don't take what she said to heart. And also, er, thank you."

He tilted his head, not meeting her gaze. "For what?"

Face red, Everly shook her head. Thankfully, Erebus came to the rescue, unbeknownst to him, just before a response would be expected out of her.

"Ever, Tom, look! We can have a celebration with these fireworks before we head back to Hogwarts! How's that sound?"

"Like great fun," she lied, seeing Erebus come walking up with his great collection of fireworks and other joke store goodies.

"We can set them off tonight!" Erebus said, beaming from ear to ear, looking more excited than she'd seen him in a long while.

It did the trick of making her own smile feel more genuine, and she giggled, taking a couple of hefty fireworks off Erebus's hands. "Then let's ring these up and get home quickly so we can have dinner."

"Sounds like a plan!" Erebus said cheerfully and then sent a wrinkle-nosed look towards Tom. "You're going to need a bath—it was that candle, wasn't it? Clings to your clothes for days if you're not careful."

Heading toward the shop attendant, Everly choked on a laugh.

"You know from experience then?" Tom asked Erebus, his voice coming from right behind her.

"Lots—Caleb and Derek like testing who smells what. It's always just been vomit to me though, what about you?"

A moment of quiet, then, "Smells like sewage."

**.**

**.**

Fireworks on a snowy evening was an interesting combination, to say the least.

"What are muggle fireworks like?" Everly asked as the three of them sat on the chairs Whinny had set out, in front of the table the elf had set out, watching a soaring sparkling green dragon flit through the sky while spewing bursts of flame. It'd been at this for a minute or so and had been quite the spectacle, especially amidst the softly descending snowflakes.

"They certainly aren't a spectacle like this."

"Then what are they like?"

Tom was quiet a moment before reaching into the bag of assorted firework goods and pulling out a tube with a pointed hat and wick at the end. "Much more like these."

"And?" Everly pressed, especially curious now that it felt like he was holding back.

"Well, have you ever heard of Guy Fawkes?"

"Not that I can recall."

Tom hummed. "I suspected that to be the case."

Everly frowned. "Explain then."

"First, some context," Tom began, adjusting himself in his chair to get comfortable. "You understand there's a difference between Christianity and Catholicism, right?" At her nod, he gave an exhale of relief. "Good, I'd rather not get into those details."

"Why not?"

She'd always found the subject of muggle religions to be rather fascinating, especially because of the dangers that had been wrought by believers linking wizardry and witchcraft to evil. There was a reason the Wizarding community was hidden, after all—and yet wizards and witches across the world still celebrated Christmas, Easter, and Valentine's Day, despite that.

"Moving on," he said breezily, completely ignoring her, "a quick history lesson."

She lifted a brow. "Right."

"This all happened four hundred years ago, and the reigning monarch at the time, Queen Elizabeth the First, was greatly intolerant against Catholics. There'd been hope, however, that her successor, James the First, could be converted and that Catholics would gain the tolerance they so wanted. As it turns out, that wasn't to be. Upon succeeding the throne, he publicly condemned Catholicism as a superstition, ordered all Catholic priests to leave England, and continued with the policies set by Queen Elizabeth, even taxing those that didn't attend Protestant services."

"You seem to know quite a lot about this," she noted, pleasantly surprised.

He grimaced. "Yes, unfortunately I've heard the history of this story many times throughout my life."

"Why is that?" Erebus asked, face twisted into a curious sort of pout.

"It's just a story that gets told a lot to muggle children."

At that, Everly lit up with excitement and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Really? Go on!"

"If you'll please not interrupt me, I will," Tom said with a pointed look in her direction.

Feeling her grin expand, she very quietly mouthed, "Sorry," before leaning back into her chair and cupping her warm mug of hot chocolate to her chest.

"There were many attempts after that, to dethrone and assassinate King James. Many English Catholics, even priests and laymen, attempted to kill him, to kidnap him, and to install a man of their own onto the throne. All attempts failed, but the most famous of all was a plot that later came to be known as the Gunpowder Plot. Eight men were involved but the one who gained the most recognition wasn't even the leader, Robert Catesby, but a man by the name Guy Fawkes.

"The Gunpowder Plot was relatively simple. Fawkes, under the alias John Johnson, became the caretaker of a cellar they'd leased directly under the House of Lords—which was the upper house of Parliament, Parliament being relative to the Ministry.

"It was there that they were able to store a stockpile of gunpowder and, if everything had gone as planned, it was there that Guy Fawkes was supposed to light a fuse on the fifth of November during the opening of a new session of Parliament. Inside would've been King James and his eldest son, leaving the House of Lords and the House of Commons to be destroyed along with them.

"Afterwards, Fawkes would then supposed to escape by boat across the Thames and his fellows were to start an uprising, a rebellion, in the English Midlands, kidnap the King's daughter and install her as a puppet queen and eventually marry her off to a Catholic, restoring the Catholic monarchy. But, a day before the plan was meant to go off, after a search had been ordered, Fawkes was found with matches and thirty-six barrels of gunpowder. In the end, he was taken away, tortured per the request of the King and eventually executed, along with several of his other co-conspirators."

"So it was all a failure?" Erebus asked, eyes wide. "What happened to the Catholics after that?"

"Well, it took a long while, but about two hundred years later, in the early eighteen hundreds, Catholics were emancipated."

"I don't understand. How does this all link back to fireworks?" Everly asked, frowning at the story with such a grim ending.

"Ah, right. Well, to explain that, basically when the news of the plot got out to the public, Londoners began to light bonfires out on the streets and by an act of Parliament, the fifth of November was designated as a day of thanksgiving.

"So even now, people light bonfires, throw parades, and burn effigies of Guy Fawkes and fire off fireworks into the streets. In the weeks approaching Guy Fawkes Day, kids'll make a 'guy' of their own out of old clothes and straw, or whatever else rubbish they can find, and cart the bloody thing around, walking right up to strangers on the streets to ask, 'penny for the guy, Mister?', all in the hopes of being able to get up the sums to buy fireworks for themselves. Back when I was still small, I used to get penny bangers," Tom added, seemingly lost in thought, "those were right fun."

Everly wasn't sure if Tom was aware, but the longer he'd spoken, the less refined he began to sound. Almost as if she was listening to an entirely different side of him. It surprised her how much that drew her to him, the simple act of hearing him tell a historical tale in way that was much more rugged coming out of him than she was used to.

She was staring at his mouth now.

"Did you make a 'guy' of your own, then?" Erebus asked, reaching into the bag to pull out a pack of fireflies, which were small little balls that when pinched between the fingers would turn make your fingertips glow for a time.

Tom shook his head with a grin. "No, too much of a bother."

Erebus frowned. "Then how'd you get the sums for fireworks?"

Tom lifted his hand and wiggled his fingers.

Everly gasped. "You  _stole_?"

"It's one of the first things you learn as a kid on the streets of London," Tom said with a grin, seemingly unperturbed by her dismayed reaction.

"Stealing is... wrong," she muttered lamely, disgruntled by the thought of a child stealing. Not that she didn't know things like that happened, and she knew, on some level, that Tom had grown up differently than her, but all the same it was a strange realization. Unsettling and upsetting all at once.

As if she were seeing the world from a different perspective. From his.

Tom chuckled. "That's all you have to say? I'm surprised—I was expecting a lecture of some sort, powered by your never failing moral compass that's supposedly has never steered you wrong before."

"What was it like, Tom, growing up in an orphanage?"

The question seemed to catch Tom off guard and he stiffened. "What gave you the impression you could ask me that?"

She shrugged, took a sip of her hot chocolate, and innocently said, "I'm just curious, you don't have to be defensive."

"Hm." Tom didn't look too happy with that answer.

"How about this then," she began, adjusting herself to pull her feet up underneath her, arranging the ends of her coat to keep her feet warm. "Anything you want to ask, I will answer honestly, and anything I want to ask, you provide the same courtesy."

"And what about me?" Erebus asked, his suspicious look returning to his eyes as he regarded the two of them.

"Obviously you're joining too. We'll go in a circle—"

"A triangle."

"—a triangle, and whoever's turn it is, gets to ask whatever question they want to whoever. Deal?"

Tom concerned this for a moment, squinting at Everly with full suspicion. "Alright, then, deal. But I want to go first."

"By all means," Everly said, wondering why her heart was suddenly jumping with nerves.

Tom turned to Erebus. "Do you ever feel... guilt for the way you were born?"

Erebus's eyes shot wide open and his face paled. He opened his mouth, shut it, and slid a glance towards Everly. "Guilt?"

" _Tom_ ," Everly bit out warningly, feeling her whole body tense.

"You said we could ask whatever we want," Tom reminded her. "And I'm curious."

"Still—"

"I don't feel guilty," Erebus cut in firmly, with a brave jut of his chin. "I didn't do anything wrong the day I was born. Sometimes bad things just happen, but it's not anyone's fault. After all, babies are brought into the world to be taken care of and loved until they grow up. They can't do anything by themselves, and they make big messes that need to be cleaned up, but that's just the way things are. Just like the sun rises and falls, there's no helping it. Dad always tells me that I was the last great thing Mum did before she died, and that because I'm alive, Mum is too in a way. He says that most people don't have anything good come from their deaths, but that I helped make Mum's send off special."

Tom cocked his head to the side but said nothing, seeming to be contemplating Erebus's words.

Everly was simply too stunned to say a word. Stunned because she didn't often hear Erebus talk about such things, and also because she'd never known her father to say such things out loud. She'd known they were close, but hearing such kind words through second-hand means, Everly felt her middle ache with an intense longing. An almost jealous longing.

She had no idea what to say in the face of that.

"My turn!" Erebus announced before the silence continued to spawn more silence.

"Who's your question for then?" Everly asked faintly.

"Have you ever resented me for taking Mum away, Ever?" His look was that of genuine worry.

Everly felt like her throat was closing up, but after a moment and swallowing, she managed to say, quite calmly, "Never—at least I don't think so. Perhaps when I was four and the loss of her was still fresh. I don't recall much of that time honestly. All I know is that you were an adorable baby, and I loved you from the moment I felt you kick in Mum's tummy.

"Did I ever tell you that she used to sit me down beside her and we'd sing songs to you? I'd lay awake at night, waiting impatiently for the day I could greet my little brother and when I was finally able to, I knew you were mine to take care of. Like you said," she reminded him with a soft smile, "that's just the way things are."

"Oh," Erebus exhaled in visible relief.

Everly felt her shoulders droop, feeling as if that sound had broken the tension in her shoulders. "When have I ever given off the impression that I resent you?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes I just wonder."

Everly laughed and shook her head. "A completely bonkers notion."

"You never know," he mumbled with red cheeks.

"My turn, I suppose," Everly said, deciding to let Erebus off the hook for now. She looked to Tom and raised both of her brows. "You already know what I'm curious about, so, go on, tell us. What is it like growing up in an orphanage?"

Tom sighed. "I'm not going to shake you off this, am I?"

She considered him. "Well, if you're that against sharing, I won't pry—but, perhaps if you tell me then we can call it even, what you did to me at Christmas? Only thing is, if I'm to forgive you for that, you can't hold back on the details."

"What'd he do to you at Christmas?" Erebus asked curiously, popping a firefly firework between his fingers, making them glow pink.

Tom was grinning. "While I don't understand your absurd fascination with life in a bloody orphanage, I accept your deal."

"Good," Everly said, leaning towards Erebus to snatch a firefly firework, popping it, and chancing upon the color blue. She wiggled her glowing finger in front of Tom's face when he said nothing. "Go on already, the sun'll be setting soon."

He looked for a moment like he wanted to throttle her. Then, he gave off a sigh of defeat. "Where do you even want me to begin?"

"Well, is there schooling? Erebus and I were taught to read by Ewelyn and most of our lessons weren't supervised in the strictest sense, so I've always wondered about muggle schools and what they're like."

"Ah, schooling," Tom cracked a grin. "The three R's is what we call it. Reading, writing, and basic arithmetic. I learned them by rote and oft beatings—which is to say, I learned by watching the other kids get the dickens beat out of them because  _I_  am a genius."

"Corporal punishment," she surmised with a nod and a frown.

"That is what they call it."

"What's an average day like in your orphanage?"

Tom sighed. "Evy, really? You can do better than that."

"What's wrong with my question?" she asked defensively.

"Too general," he said decisively.

"Or you're just acting like a coward," she muttered.

Tom scoffed. "A coward? What do I have to be afraid of?"

"You tell me, as you're the one who keeps dragging this out."

"God, you're annoying."

"Tom, please."

He looked away and then sighed deeply. She knew she'd won then.

"Wool's Orphanage is a relatively small orphanage. There're forty-six of us, mostly boys, and Mrs. Cole is the matron of the place, the one who looks after everything, makes sure things are running as they should be. The people aren't especially unkind there—in fact, there are worse orphanages in London to be in, because at least you get fed at least two meals a day there. That is, of course, if you've done your chores and your classwork.

"Chores are simple things, like gardening, washing clothes, scrubbing floors. If you're an older resident like I am, your chores are greater because you have to look after the young ones that have just come in too. It's more simple stuff mostly; wake them up in the morning, help them get dressed, send them to the playroom, make their beds, and then before heading off to sleep, help them clean up and get into their nightwear."

"You've done all that?" Everly asked, incredulous, not quite able to picture Tom in these situations.

"Is it so hard to believe?"

"Well, yes."

His smile became a bit abashed. "Truthfully, I don't often take care of the younger children, not anymore. Mrs. Cole likes me doing more of the manual labor, doesn't like me mingling with the others so much, and keeps me busy through chores that eat up time. Mostly, it's painting walls, fixing bannisters and loose screws, planting vegetables and harvesting them—and if there isn't any upkeep to be done at the home, then I'm sent elsewhere to do the same."

"Why is that? Mrs. Cole doesn't like you?"

"Mrs. Cole is a superstitious woman raised as a Christian and to her, I've never been her idea of an ideal child. So, no, she never did like me very much and I never did like her."

There was that petulant tone again.

"You've seem to have spent a great deal of time on your own, then," she noted. "I see now that's where you get your independence from."

Tom gave her an appraising look. "And you, you get your independence from similarly being on your own a lot."

She frowned. "I suppose, but it's different. Like you so love to point out, I'm still greatly dependent on my father, at least monetarily. While you, well, you're on your own in most every regard. I'd say I find it to be your sole admirable trait, but I'm not too sure it isn't a flaw of yours either."

"A flaw?"

"Yes, a flaw. Just because someone is independent, doesn't mean that, to other people, they're dependable. In fact, I think you repel those that seek to depend on you too much. Or perhaps, you don't repel them, but rather, you pretend to be a support to them when in actuality, you're simply using them."

Tom gave off a choking sound mixed with laughter. "I don't believe I'll ever be able to escape your criticisms, will I, dear Evy?"

Everly's frown deepened, only just then realizing how much of her time with him that she spent passing judgements. It made her wonder absently what Tom found so attractive about her, to the point that  _he'd_  kiss  _her._ She herself wasn't sure how well she'd get along with someone constantly calling her out for her mistakes. Considering that, shouldn't he be the one pulling away if she were really as annoying as he called her?

This entire time she'd wondered what she liked about him, but the reverse was just as mystifying.

Troubled, but shelving the thought for later, she refocused on Tom, noting the way his thumb and forefinger propped up his head, his expression that of scrutiny.

"You're only human, Tom," she said after extended eye contact. "We all have flaws."

"True, but most people don't feel the need to point out what's wrong with other people so blatantly."

"I  _don't_ ," she defended weakly. "Only with you—"

"Only with me—Are you saying you target me especially for your unique brand of harassment?"

She snorted. "' _Unique brand of harassment_ '—Tom, you're being ridiculous."

"I'm asking a question here. Am I the only one you bother like this?"

"Don't mind her, Tom," Erebus cut in before she could respond in her flabbergasted state. "She just gets like that when she's worried. It's because she has the instincts of a mum."

" _Instincts of a mum'!_ " Everly squeaked.

"You do," Erebus said matter-of-factly. "It's why you like tutoring the troublesome kids."

"That may be the smartest thing I've ever heard you say, Erebus," Tom noted. "Everything about her makes sense now."

"No, it doesn't!" she protested.

Tom wrinkled his nose as if smelling something distasteful. "The truth is out. You've been attempting to mother me this entire time. Is there any wonder why I find your presence so god awful now?"

Everly's mouth fell open as she processed the insult—and then her mental faculties promptly failed her in this face of his bald-faced lie.

"Says the same person who keeps snogging the daylights out of me!" she snapped.

Everly regretted those words the moment they were out of her and, not even a second after they'd hit the air, was she planting her face in her palms and groaning at her brash stupidity. How Tom knew the quickest route to pissing her off, she had no idea, but he was an expert at it.

" _What_?" Erebus hollered in outrage, making her stomach plummet and her cheeks heat up considerably.

Snogging Tom was all good and dandy when it was just a secret, but for her  _little brother_  to know about it—

"If I recall, you were the one who initiated it first," said Tom tauntingly, never knowing when to quit.

"Also recall that you initiated it the second, third, and fourth time after that," she grumbled, lifting her face from her hands to glare at him.

He was grinning, perfectly amused to see her suffering. Oh, he  _would_  be.

"I knew it! I bloody knew it! I just  _knew_  something was up with the two of you!" Erebus yelled, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling at her. "And you told me you didn't like him. Liar."

"I don't!"

Tom clucked his tongue. "Saying that, even after how passionate you've been with me, Everly. It hurts, truly."

Erebus gaped. "How far have the two of you gone?" Then, before she could say anything, his face reddened and he swallowed thickly, only managing to choke out a short, "Nevermind" before disengaging eye contact and staring holes into the ground.

It felt for a moment like being buried alive was preferable to the embarrassment of having her brother ask such a question.

Unable to handle it all, and feeling fit to burst, Everly stood up and dropped her mug to the table. She wanted to run away as quickly as possible but something stopped her, kept her planted there.

Her pride.

To that, Everly had only one solution.

She lifted her head high and looked Tom right in the eye as she said, "Tom, moments like this are  _exactly_  why I don't like you, and never will. You're immature, and you have no respect for anyone but yourself, you... you narcissistic, self-centered, arrogant, pompous, big-headed, small-minded, aggravatingly cocky, foul-mouthed...  _half-blood_."

And then, with as much dignity as she could muster, she headed back towards the manor doors, where she could at last warm up and prepare for her train trip back to Hogwarts in peace.

**chapter ten - end**


End file.
